


Identity

by BuckinghamAlice, lightsparkwatchboom



Series: The Dark'n'Bossy/BigBlueSky Role-Play Archive [6]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DC Comics, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: 100.000+ Words Later..., M/M, RP Blog Archive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-18
Updated: 2014-01-19
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1135083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuckinghamAlice/pseuds/BuckinghamAlice, https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightsparkwatchboom/pseuds/lightsparkwatchboom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce and Clark work out some of the many issues between them. First chapter is a summary of previous events.</p><p>(And this one is rated Mature for actual graphic depictions of sex, unlike last time.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Previously...

**Author's Note:**

> This is part 6 of the Dark'n'Bossy/BigBlueSky role-play you can find under the 'dab bbs rp' tag on tumblr. The first chapter is a summary of all the events previously in the role-play.

...in **KASNIA** :

Batman encountered strange weapons turning up on the streets of Gotham. The metal wasn't like anything he'd seen before, and the bullets had a tendancy to kill the victims even if the wound wasn't that severe, for a gunshot. He managed to track the weapons to a factory in Kasnia, which just so happened to have finally gotten its United Nations embargo lifted. Kasnian royalty decided to celebrate by inviting the world's top CEOs and businessmen, encouraging contracts and flow of commerce.

Superman, meanwhile, was hot on the trail of Bruno Mannheim, and when Clark Kent was told to tag along with Lois in covering the opening of Kasnia, he was all for it. Bruno was expected to attend the party, after all.

Clark Kent and Bruce Wayne met at that party. They parted on easy terms.

Batman and Superman met in a factory-cum-research facility where an alien ship had been sequestered away, its technology used to make the very weapons Batman encountered to arm the very gang Superman was following. Superman tripped an alarm as he flew inside, and he was forced to fly back out again with Batman in his arms.

Batman was not. Happy.

They did not part on good terms.

...in  **GOTHAM** :

About a month later, Bruce Wayne is expected to make an appearance at the annual Martha Wayne Foundation fundraiser dinner. All the big turnouts show up, including Lex Luthor and the reporters always sure to get the beat on him, Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Somehow they all end up at the same table along with Miranda Dae, Bruce Wayne's date for the night. That is, until Luthor makes his leave and sits with Amanda Waller instead.

Clark flirted shamelessly with Bruce, much to Lois' amusement. Bruce held on as best he could, but he had to remember: his public persona was straight. And that was that.

Not even an hour in and the news is suddenly filled with Harvey "Two-Face" Dent turning the newest District Attourney into his hostage at the traveling  _2nd Dynasty_  exhibit. His men are also ransacking the museum, of course. It's a classic two-for-one move brought to you by the classic Two-Face.

Superman arrives, but Two-Face puts his gun to the DA's skull. That's when Batman makes his shadowy appearance. He reminds Two-Face that he needs to flip his coin first, and when Two-Face does, he smacks it out of the air with a batarang and Two-Face panics. Superman is able to get the gun and save the DA by placing him behind a row of jade statues, one of which is a slightly different shade of green.

Batman turns around and sees Superman collapsed on the floor. He ties up Two-Face and uses his Batmobile to haul Superman away, sequestering him in a safehouse until Superman regains consciousness and his strength. They talk, but naturally it all turns sour between them. Superman peaks under the mask to see who he's dealing with, and is utterly shocked to find Bruce Wayne staring back at him.

Batman, meanwhile, uses the tracking device he slipped onto Superman to find out he is none other than Clark Kent himself.

...in **METROPOLIS** :

Wayne Enterprises and LexCorp are teaming up with STAR Labs to build the very first commercial space station, so of course Bruce has to fly out to Metropolis for the final paperwork-signing meeting. When he arrives he is greeted by ace reporters Lois and Clark, the former of which catches Bruce's eye and he asks her out on a date, right then and there. Clark tries not to let his emotions show.

On the way home from the airport, Clark has to rescue a train from careening off the track. Its driver had been shot by a sniper for no apparent reason. Not until Batman decides to take a look, right after his date with Lois, which goes spectacularly wrong when she starts to suspect Bruce isn't as straight and he likes to play. He assesses the crime scene and of course is watched by Superman, who is hovering close.

Batman sees the flash of metal almost too late, and he pushes Superman out of the way on instinct, taking the bullet right between two ribs. The Kevlar takes the brunt of the force, luckily, but he couldn't pack his thickest armor for the trip to Metropolis. It manages to break the skin underneath.

And it was glowing green.

Superman gets Batman to cover as he dresses his wound and disposes of the kryptonite bullet. They search for the sniper, but he or she is gone. There's no sign left.

The next day brings about a casual lunch date with Lois, though this time she drags Clark with her. The dinner date at the Aquarium is just the two of them, though by the end Bruce has had enough. He ends their budding “relationship,” and Lois is convinced both her and Clark dodged a bullet, despite Clark's insistence that he is not interested.

After that, Batman breaks into Luthor's offices and finds _the book_ : page after page of methods to kill Superman. He finds the kryptonite rifle and a space-grade battle suit inside.

He has Superman take him to his 'Cave to make a quick Kevlar fabric vest for him, which is put under his costume. The space station deal falls out between STAR Labs and LexCorp, brought to you by Bruce Wayne truly, and thought Bruce goes home to Gotham, Batman is taken to Metropolis every night, looking for leads on the Superman Sniper.

...in **WORKING TOGETHER** :

Bruce and Clark, aka Batman and Superman, end up on terms that may be called _friendship_. Though Bruce ends up rekindling his “romance” with Miranda, because some things he thought he had dealt with long ago were resurfacing.

But in Batman's nightly absence, another person takes up the cowl of the bat. Batman doesn't find out about this until pictures are provided by Jim Gordon, and when he finds Barbara Gordon, aka _Batgirl_ , he tries setting her straight on not becoming a crime fighter. Not in Gotham, at any rate.

Superman overhears the conversation and tries to intervene, but Batman leaves. Barbara does not stop being Batgirl and reluctantly, after witnessing her take down drug leader Mancinni and his operations, he decides to give her access to the Batcave and training.

The kryptonite assassin ends up making his big debut on the news, crashing through Metropolis in a battlesuit powered by kryptonite radiation. Superman fights him for as long as he can, and Batman is forced to use his Batjet to get to Metropolis in time to stop the assassin, who turns out to be a mercenary – a big difference in a fight. The mercenary lands one solid punch on Batman's ribs, right in the bullet wound, and Batman suffers internal bleeding as a result. Between that and having to fight a robot, he passes out and wakes up in STAR Labs, of all places.

STAR kept the cowl on for his sake. Superman is in another room recovering from the kryptonite, and Batman leaves without a word between them.

Later, Clark Kent pays a visit to Bruce Wayne, who is supposedly skiing in the alps and has suffered a rib injury. Barbara's there. It's hard to keep secrets from someone like her when you leave her alone with a supercomputer for six hours. They have a friendly chat over dinner, sans Barbara, during which it is found out that STAR took a DNA sample of Superman in his weakened state.

While Bruce heals from his wounds, he takes to training both Barbara and Clark in the Batcave. Clark also sneaks out to watch Barbara on her patrol when she runs into a kid working for a “Mr. Diego.” Mr. Diego is selling a new drug on the street in the wake of the power vacuum Mancinni left.

Eventually a friendship turns to romance despite all of Bruce's tries not to. They finally have their first kiss, a passionate grapple of lips and tongue, right before it's revealed that Bruce is still seeing Miranda, and everything falls apart again.

...in **DEMONS** :

Batman and Superman are forced to work together again when Diana of Themiscyra, Princess of the Amazons, comes looking for a missing Amazonian botanist from their Saharan tribe. Things are tense between the two heroes, and Diana has enough on her plate trying to figure out Man's World, let alone figure out those two.

Superman and Diana go to the Saharan colony to see if they can find some clues. They're attacked by members of the League of Shadows, and all 60 of the kamikaze warriors die by the end of the battle. Some were even done in by Diana's blades.

Clark experiences his first real nightmare.

Batman finds out that the drug Mr. Diego was selling was a modified version of Bane venom that, when exposed to a catalyst, would turn users into hulking monsters. As soon as he started warning authorities about this who else but Talia al Ghul would show up in his room, passing on a message that her father was as much of magician as he was a detective. The history between them would not have gone unnoticed, were anyone else there to witness the exchange.

Gotham erupts into a battleground after that. The catalyst is introduced and all the users morph into Abominations after that. There's no telling how many are in total, and their strength is unmatched by anything the GCPD can do. Batman calls in Superman and Diana to aid him, and turning up of their own free will are the heroes Green Lantern, Zatana Zatara, and the Flash. Together they win the Battle of Gotham, and afterward, Superman, Batman and the newly dubbed “Wonder Woman” run off after Ra's al Ghul in Nepal.

They had to fly commercial to get to Nepal. Diana's space jet engine was shot, Bruce hadn't had time to order new jet fuel for his Batjet. During the flight, Clark and Bruce end up sitting together, and they attempt to somewhat address what happened between them. It goes no where.

Once in Nepal it's down to business. They go to sneak into Ra's base when Ra's reveal he has a new weapon, a clone of Superman rushed so much he earned the name Bizarro. A fight between Superman and Bizarro ensues, Diana distracts the bulk of Ra's' forces and Batman tries to find his way to the chemical weapon Ra's is stockpiling made from a plant exclusive to the Amazonian Saharan colony. The missing botanist is in with Ra's, and it is through her that Ra's learns of Themiscyra, and sends a strike force to attack the island. That pulls Diana out of the fight.

The missing botanist, however, was none too please with Ra's betrayal. She lights the facility on fire and Ra's, seizing opportunity, locks Batman in, leaving by his own means. Superman manages to finish his fight with Bizarro just in time to rescue Batman.

Diana comes back for the missing botanist and takes her away to Themiscyra. Superman and Batman, both in agreement that they never want to spend 32 hours on a plane again, fly by their own means.

Bruce falls asleep in Clark's arms on the way back.

And now, onto _Identity_...


	2. Previously...

The moment they entered Gotham City limits it was like a switch had been flicked. Bruce snapped awake with a fast breath. It took him a whole two seconds to analyze his surroundings: lights canvassing the world below him, dazzling more brilliantly than the heavens above, along with the stench of cars and trash and people so much more repugnant after the mountains of Nepal. But it was  _home_. He felt like he needed to be out there, right now.

"Cliff," Bruce said, though perhaps a bit slurred from his sleep. His body was slow to catch up with his mind. 

===

Clark nodded and came down where Bruce directed.  

"Here you are, home again," he said, letting Bruce’s feet touch the ground.  His hands lingered a moment longer on Bruce’s body than he meant them to, so he glanced down at them and pulled them back quickly but reluctantly.

===

"Thanks," Bruce replied, opening the door to the ‘Cave. He wanted nothing more than to get back out into his city, to swing from her gargoyles and to leap across the veins of her life. Reports could wait; he had been gone for too long. But — no. Bruce pulled himself back in. Reports were best when done as soon as possible, when details were still acceptably accurate. And he had been gone longer than this before. He’d survive another hour.

"And get some sleep. You need it," he added as he stepped inside. Then Bruce remembered the nightmares, but the last time he had made a suggestion on how to deal with those it didn’t go so well. "Goodnight, Clark."

===

Clark gave a soft smile and a little nod.  ”You too.  Goodnight, Bruce.”

&&&

When he got back to his apartment, he found his mail sitting on the little table beside the door along with a note from Lois.

"You didn’t ask, but I thought I’d do it anyways.  And by the way, you’re out of Pop Tarts… I ate the last ones.  You owed me for bringing in your mail."

He smiled to himself and shook his head and thought maybe he should ask her for that key to his apartment back.  Not that he’d given it to her in the first place, now that he thought about it…

With a sigh, he opened his bedroom door and found it very much like he left it… sheets cold and stiff in the laundry basket, nightstand on its side with the lamp broken beside it, and… finger shaped grooves in the headboard?  He hadn’t even noticed those before.

He quickly remade his bed and changed into his pajamas and made a mental note that Bruce was right about seeing a therapist.  It had been a while since he’d had a session with Dr. Bantham… he’d call and make an appointment to see her in the morning.

&&&

He woke up with a start, heart racing, sweating.  

At least he hadn’t damaged any furniture this time.

This was a problem.

&&&

Getting back to sleep after waking up so suddenly and roughly turned out to be difficult, so Clark just cut his losses and got up.  He started the tea kettle and grabbed the knit afghan from the back of the couch and wrapped it around himself, though he wasn’t cold.  It just made him feel comfortable and secure.  He made himself a cup of tea and he thought, all of a sudden, about Bruce.

The nightmares… Bruce had nightmares, too.  When he mentioned it, Clark hadn’t really had time to react, but… he had told Clark willingly, unprovoked.  He’d actually been more open in that respect… Clark had had no plans of mentioning his  _own_  nightmares.  But when he had asked before, Bruce had worked so hard to evade Clark’s questions.  He’d been doing that since they had met.

But maybe… maybe calling him on it had made a difference.

He thought about Bruce asking how mad he was when he heard the kettle whistle.  He could have been madder than he was… but… it was more than just a lack of energy that kept him from having a fit, wasn’t it?  He had been hurt… but Bruce probably hadn’t meant to hurt him.  There was really no reason to stay mad and make things even more difficult.  It was complicated enough as it was… it had gotten so complicated so fast.

 _After everything_ , he had said.  He sighed.

As his tea steeped, Clark replayed that conversation on the plane.  Part of him wished he had said nothing at all… even though he hadn’t really said anything, now that he thought about it.  They’d  _both_  carefully kept from saying what they really meant.

 _The situation was very obvious_ , Bruce had said.  The words had raised the hairs on the back of Clark’s neck because they had seemed so… flippant and dismissive at the time.  It had sounded like Bruce didn’t care about his feelings… and it had made Clark mad.  And hurt.  Because Bruce was saying, “I  _obviously_  made my choice.  We  _obviously_  got carried away and made a mistake.  You are  _obviously_  an idiot.   _Obviously_ , I’ve moved on and you should have, too.”

But maybe he’d been listening as someone who was hurt and hadn’t caught everything that was in that statement.  Maybe what Bruce was saying didn’t have a whole bunch of hidden meanings, for once.  Maybe, it had been obvious.

===

It was just as well that he had not gone out right away. He had nearly forgotten about the jet, which, in his digging throughout various compartments, he learned was called “the Javelin.” Appropriate, he thought.

It still didn’t look like it would fly anytime soon. He started fixing and replacing what he knew could be touched, but as for the engine, that was going to take a while. And Diana had returned the communicator, so he had to assume she would show up at some point, maybe with her mechanic friend she had mentioned.

Bruce wasn’t sure if he actually liked that prospect or if he was more upset about Diana knowing about his Batcave. On one hand, he could end up learning about the engine much faster. On the other, to say he was still disconcerted about Diana knowing the location of his sanctum was an understatement.

He washed his hand over his face and sighed. It had been a day since they parted. Part of him wanted to know how Clark was doing. He had sent an email to him with the contact details of one Dinah Lance, aka “Black Canary,” with only the message that if he ended up revealing his Superman identity, she would probably understand. Bruce didn’t know how much Clark’s regular therapist knew. He figured even if he was ignored, it was worth passing along.

===

Clark didn’t know how to respond to Bruce’s email.  He wanted to… wanted to say that he appreciated Bruce sending him the name of someone he could trust, because there was only so much he could say to Dr. Bantham.  He wanted to say that it might have been nice if he had also had someone who knew what it felt like… but that he just couldn’t say.

He wasn’t sure what he had done wrong with Bruce, but he knew he had screwed up…. because he felt like he had been so wrong… about everything.  Reminded himself that he had stopped himself that night because Bruce had a girlfriend… because Bruce had tried so hard to prove he didn’t want Clark.  But still he felt like he could have done things differently… and maybe things wouldn’t be awkward and complicated and weird right now.

But he did end up making an appointment with Dinah Lance.

&&&

Things settled more or less into the usual routine over the next few days.  Clark worked, spent as much time as possible being Superman, avoided sleeping as much as possible, and tried not to think about Bruce.

He was flying over the city a few mornings later when he saw a familiar figure flying towards him.  He felt a little bit of apprehension as she approached, because the last time she had come to him, it was in desperation.  He hoped nothing else had happened.

"Diana," he addressed her.  "Why are you… is everything…?"

But she smiled, hovering near him.  ”I come bearing good will.  You proved yourself to be a worthy, faithful ally to my people, and my mother sent me to request your presence.  She would like to formally meet you.”  She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  ”I assume you understand the significance of this gesture.”

He did, indeed.  ”’I’d be honored, Diana.  Thank you.”

"Then come," she said, smiling kindly.  "This time tomorrow."

Clark nodded.  ”I’ll be there.”

"Good," she said.  She turned to go and said, "I have another call to pay, so I’ll see you tomorrow."

Clark had a feeling he knew who she was going to visit now… and he was torn between being scared that he would see Bruce again and scared that he wouldn’t.

===

 

Right on time, Diana showed up in Gotham — and she was not alone.

She was not who Bruce had expected. The woman was old and hunchbacked, carrying a cane and a small hand bag that looked like it had seen better days. And she was blind.

"This is Agatha," Diana explained. "Agatha, this is the Batman." _  
_

"Yes deary, I can feel that. Now take me to my ship you’ve so elegantly ruined."

"Batman?" Diana asked.

Batman blinked at her from behind the cowl. She had, at least, found him while out on patrol instead of coming to his Batcave unannounced. He nodded his head and lead the way.

&&&

Bruce felt painfully short next to Diana.

"I told you to take care of her, didn’t I?" Agatha barked.

"Yes, ma’am," Diana replied. She looked amused.

"And I told you, never click the engine beyond the C-block, didn’t I?"

"Yes, ma’am."

"And I  _told you_ , if you’re going to shoot the engine, shoot it  _fast_  and  _clean_.” Agatha whirled her hands and a burst of magic flowed from them. That was why Batman stood next to Diana, instead of behind Agatha’s shoulder.

"Hmph." Agatha’s magical tendrils put the last of the refreshed engine back together. "Wouldn’t have been so messy if you’d have just done what I said. There." She patted the engine hatch as it locked itself back into place. "Let’s go home, deary, I’m missing the theatre."

Diana hummed with laughter. She looked down at Bruce, and once again he was reminded of just how  _tall_  she was. He hoped the whole island wasn’t going to be like this. “Are you ready to go? We’ll have to leave now to beat Superman there.”

"And you’ve only just returned," Alfred said, dropping the one bag Bruce needed. "One of these days you’ll stay for more than a week."

Bruce gave Alfred a reassuring look. He knew the man had been worried out of his skin, maybe even more so after Bruce got home and was still coughing a day later. It was all cleared by now.

"Make sure Batgirl stays after our guy."

"Will do, sir. Have a safe trip."

Bruce picked up his bag and stepped on the Javelin.

&&&

When he stepped off, he couldn’t have felt more apprehensive if he tried. It was late evening in Gotham, here it was early morning, with the sun lightening the sky over the horizon. There was a — a  _display_ , like he was returning royalty. Torches were held by Amazonian warriors in royal regalia, decorating the path between the door of the Javelin and the platform where an imposing woman stood. She wore white silks and gold jewelry, and the crown on her head looked fit for a queen.

"My mother," Diana whispered. He had seen the resemblance in height.

Diana took his bag. Bruce pulled his cape in around him and marched beside her. ”Lady Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, I present to you the Batman of Gotham,” she said when they approached the bottom of the steps.

Hippolyta scrutinized him. Bruce tried not to let his scowl shine through. “Come,” she said, and when she turned two honor guards quickly flanked her.

"You’ll be shown to a room in the palace," Diana explained quietly. "Superman will be arriving in a few hours, though formalities won’t begin until dinner. You can sleep if you want to."

Bruce’s instincts suffered quietly as another pair of vanguards marched too close behind him. “Sleep,” he echoed. “Like I’m going to be able to do that.”

===

Perry was standing behind his desk bent over, hands gripping the wood before him.  ”Kent, you mean to tell me you think you’re trottin’ off again, when you just got back here and still owe me a piece for the evening edition, and ya got no more explanation than ‘chief, I got a lead?’”

Clark nodded.  ”Well, I did…”

"You did get a lead so you think you can just walk in here and tell _me_  where you’re gonna be?” Perry demanded.

"Well, as a matter of fact, yes," Clark said with some conviction.  For someone who relied so much on having a cover story, he’d still never managed to get very good at lying… so he had decided to settle for acting as though he had something big in the works and couldn’t really talk about it.  And that wasn’t even technically untrue.

Perry furrowed his brow a moment but then he smiled wide.  ”Well, that’s what I like to hear!”  He patted Clark on the shoulder.  ”Good to see you showing some initiative, Kent!  Finally learning to find news, I see!”

That went better than expected.

&&&

Clark flew to Themiscyra when the sun was shining extra bright.  When he landed, he heard an Amazon who didn’t look much older than Diana (though he couldn’t imagine what that translated to in years) whisper, “he has arrived.”

The moment his foot touched the rose petal strewn carpet that was laid out as a path to what he supposed was a throne, trumpeters on each side of the path began to play a fanfare.  The queen stood, and two guards in full regalia and carrying torches appeared and flanked him on each side.  The trumpeters marched first and then two more guards with torches followed them.  The warriors beside Clark moved then, so he took their cue, matching the speed and spacing of his steps to theirs.  Another two guards followed them.  More guards lined the path to the queen, and as the procession marched in time up the aisle, the all went down on one knee and bowed their heads.

As they approached the throne, the queen, a woman who looked like an older, bigger, and taller Diana watched with a serene expression on her face.  The princess he had fought beside was standing with her mother, and behind them was a line of warriors in armor even more elaborate than that of the guards.  The trumpeters stopped playing, and they and the guards who had walked in front  fanned out into a line with Clark in the center.

The queen gave one graceful movement of her hand and everyone but herself and Diana went on one knee.

"Lady Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons, I present to you Superman of Metropolis, America’s greatest champion," Diana said.

Hippolyta looked him over once and said, “My daughter tells me you are a warrior most noble and worthy.  For that, I and my people owe you our thanks and loyalty.”

Clark didn’t really know what to do or to say, but Diana was looking at him as though a response was necessary.  So he simply said, “It was a privilege, Your Majesty.”  That was how you addressed a queen, right?  Or should it have been Your Highness?  He wasn’t sure.

Hippolyta gave a little nod, and the trumpeters and the guards who had walked beside him rose again.  They played another fanfare, and two guards showed him to his room.

As they walked quietly, he breathed a sigh of relief, because no matter how honored he felt, he was was pleased that the whole spectacle, beautiful though it was, was over.

===

Bruce had been permitted to explore most of the palace grounds on the stipulation that he be accompanied by a vanguard at all times. Two, most of the time. Though other than the escorts, Bruce found himself largely ignored.

True, he was watched. Of course he was watched, he was a man dressed like a bat with a veritable armory across his hips, but so were the servants and the nobility. Everyone was watched. And everyone was ignored, too.

His belt had almost been taken from him the moment he stepped on palace grounds. Agatha had come waddling onto the scene and put up a fight. She seemed to be the only person who could address Queen Hippolyta without formality, and after enough pestering Queen Hippolyta rescinded to Agatha’s request.

That’s why he was following him past the armory and past the royal forge, out onto a stretch of flat rock with the odd crack of grass cropping up here and there. The sun was just breaking on the dawn.

"The last time I mentioned this is was to a sailor that washed up here, poor thing," Agatha began, stepping onto the rock platform. "What, did you think you were the first man on this island? We’ve had plenty, thank you very much, and this sailor was actually a girl pretending to be a boy. Didn’t work out for her when she started menstruating, I assume. Anyways." She waved her hand. The Javelin shimmered into view.

“Truth is, I don’t know much about Javelin. We found her in the sands, and through my magic I knew how to put her back together. But I only did what felt right. You’ve been touched by Hephaestus though, haven’t you?”

Bruce felt one corner of his lips twitch. Hephaestus, God of Smithing. Considering what the Greek Gods called “touching” most of the time, he wasn’t sure just how much of a compliment that was.

"Come over here," Agatha urged, "and tell me  _how_  this works.”

It took a moment to find his feet, but soon enough, Bruce stepped forward.

&&&

When Superman arrived, the whole island heard it. The whole island almost turned out for it, too, again if it weren’t for Agatha’s pestering. Through messengers they talked, and Bruce wasn’t fool enough to give away he knew Greek. Agatha wasn’t fool enough to believe he didn’t.

"You tell that daughter of mine that if she doesn’t stop shoving Amazonian culture down their throats and just lets them  _settle in_  first, we’ll get a much better response. When is Diana on the throne, has it been fifteen hundred years yet?”

 _Ah_. That explained that.

Bruce, perched on a maintenance hatch above the Javelin’s cockpit, carefully inspected what looked like a circuit board made out of processors. Hundreds of tiny, pinky nail-sized processors. It was astonishing. He couldn’t even begin to fathom who could have made it, or how long it might have taken. A hundred years? A hundred seconds? There was no telling what sort of technology or craftsmanship had made it.

He cast a forlorn gaze at the palace. Agatha stirred in her seat, and when Bruce looked, he noticed she seemed surprised.

Bruce snapped the circuit board back into place. Agatha’s magic did the rest. He didn’t say anything to her. In fact, he never had to say anything to her, not from the moment he began his scrutiny of the Javelin. Occasionally she would ask a question that would be directly related to whatever he was hypothesizing in his head, and he had to wonder just what, exactly, she meant by “feel” instead of “see.”

Superman would be getting the royal treatment. Bruce was happy tinkering with alien technology in the company of an alarming old lady.


	3. Chapter 3

The bedroom they gave Clark was unlike anything he’d ever seen.  The room was large and decorated with silken curtains, a plush carpet, floor torches, and a gigantic statue of Athena.  The bed was on a platform in the middle of the room.  There were three wide, low marble steps to walk up before you could touch the large, soft bed with its rich, colorful bedclothes.  It had four posters and curtains he could draw closed.

He turned back to the guard that had escorted him all the way through the palace to this room on the top floor.  ”Thank you,” he said.  ”This is… lovely.”

She nodded,  ”It was my pleasure.”  Then she said, “And my name is Gisela… you may call for me if you need…  _anything_.  Anything at all.”

He gave a little smile.  ”Thank you, Gisela.  I appreciate everyone’s hospitality.”

Again she nodded.  ”You will find us a very hospitable people, I hope.  And I am to provide you with every  _comfort_  you might need.  We want to make sure you are… comfortable.”

Clark’s eyes widened a little when he finally inferred what she meant by that.  ”I… I’m fine.  Thank you.  You can go now, if you like.”

"Very well," she said, turning and leaving.  He gave the tiniest little shudder at that and then rolled his eyes at himself.  He was sometimes a little too midwestern for his own good.

He turned to the washstand beside his bed and wet the washcloth with cool water.  After he washed his face, he laid down on the bed, not sleeping, but resting quietly and listened to the sounds of a feast and celebrating being prepared outside and downstairs.

About half an hour had passed when he heard a shallow knock at the door.  He went to answer it himself, rather than saying “come in” because he was a bit nervous it might be Gisela, back to make him comfortable.  He heaved a little sigh of relief when he saw Diana standing there, still wearing the silver bracelets he had assumed were part of her uniform.  But she wore them with a lovely floor length cream colored linen gown with an empire waist and little silver medallions connected the wide straps to the bodice.  Her hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders and she a delicate silver tiara atop her head.

Clark smiled.  ”Would it be redundant to tell a princess that she looked as pretty as a princess?”

"Maybe a bit," she said with a smile.  "We had guests, so we thought it would be best to look our best."

"You’ve all made me feel like a pretty big deal," he said.  "I hope I don’t leave here with a swollen head."

Diana furrowed her brows.  ”Are you unwell?”

Clark shook his head and laughed once.  ”Oh, no… that’s just an expression.  I meant that I hope all this doesn’t give me a big ego.”

Diana laughed then.  ”I don’t imagine that is possible.”  Then she tilted her head.  ”I came here for a reason.  I wanted to ask you if you would like me to give you a tour around the island.”

He hesitated a moment, because the last time someone gave him a tour around their home, a whole can of worms got opened and the mess still hadn’t been cleaned up… but nothing like that could happen here, he didn’t suppose.  Clark nodded.  ”That sounds nice.  Thank you.”

Diana offered him her arm, and he took it, feeling a tad silly.  But they set out just then, and Clark realized it was probably good that he was getting a chance to see things… and being escorted by the princess was probably a pretty big honor.

===

"Hold on," Agatha started, rocking forward the pilot’s chair. They had moved inside. "That’s—"

"Logical," Bruce replied. "I’ve seen this schematic before, on another ship. The wiring shouldn’t have gone together like this." He popped open a slightly larger pouch and pulled out a folded piece of metal, which unfolded into wire cutters.

Agatha made a grumble. “Hephaestus, indeed. What do you want for dinner?”

"I was under the impression that—"

"Asking is faster, or don’t you already know that?"

Bruce frowned. He did not like this woman anymore, but he suspected she already knew that. Somehow it made her presence more bearable. 

===

Diana very proudly took Clark  _everywhere_  and showed him  _everything_.  Or he  _felt_  like he had seen everything at any rate… and it was a little overwhelming.

When Diana was busy showing him the forge and explaining its purpose (as if being from man’s world, he wouldn’t understand  _anything_  he saw… of course, he felt like he owed her a chance to be the person who knew what was going on, so he said nothing but the appropriate  _ahhs_  and  _I sees_ ), Clark glanced over to the expanse where the Javelin was sitting.  He saw Bruce and an old woman moving about, and he got an odd feeling in his stomach.

He had stopped paying attention to whatever Diana was saying.  Her voice had trailed off, and she was suddenly saying, “Superman, are you well?”

He shook his head and brought himself back to reality.  ”Of course.”

Diana’s eyes followed his over to the Javelin and she cleared her throat.  ”Let’s go see what progress they’ve made.”  She took him by the arm again and they wandered up outside the jet.

===

"Hmph. Your Superman is outside."

Bruce paused momentarily. Coming from anyone else on the island, and he would have assumed they meant more along the lines of “the one you call Superman in your world is outside.”

He finished rewiring the circuit.

"We’re done," Agatha said abruptly. "I’m tired. And I’ve got arrangements to ruin in the kitchen now. Help an old lady to her feet, will you?"

Bruce sat up from his back and Agatha quietly put everything back together. It was actually really nice, being able to work with her magic. He could break something on purpose, just to see what it did, and she’d have it back the way it was meant to be in a snap.

He stood to his feet and held out a hand for her. Agatha used it to push herself out of her chair, and she held it all the way down the steps, much to his annoyance.

"Diana, deary, what a surprise to see you! And how’s the Superman liking Themiscyra, hm?"

===

Clark tried to figure if there was some way to acknowledge Bruce without looking at him or speaking directly to him.  Seemed best not to try before he was sure what to say that wouldn’t be wrong and what to do that wouldn’t be even worse.  

"Hello, Agatha," Diana replied.  "And I believe Superman is liking it here just fine… at least I hope he is."

"He is," Clark said with a smile.  "I am.  It’s lovely… like no place I’ve ever been."

===

It seemed like such a simple thing, and yet, Bruce was retreating within himself, separating his mind from his body. He usually only did this during society events and other activities. And really, it shouldn’t have been his reflex. They hadn’t parted on bad terms — in fact, the last they saw one another, they probably parted on better terms than was normal.

Now all that was left was to puzzle out why he was  _afraid_.

Batman kept his peace as Agatha ambled over to Diana, exchanging his hand for hers. “You need to take me to the kitchen, dear,” she was saying. “You know I hate it when they don’t make my almond milk right. Have you shown him the kitchen yet?”

===

"I did, I’m afraid," Diana said.  "He has seen most everything I intended to show him… I am sure he would not mind if I left him now."  She turned back to Clark and smiled.  "Would you?"

He bit his lip but then forced a smile.  He was a guest and they had all been so nice to him… he wasn’t going to inconvenience an old woman or Diana because he felt awkward around a guy he kissed once and snarked at… frequently.  ”That’s fine,” he said with a nod.  ”I’ll be okay.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow and gave Clark a knowing look, and he felt uncomfortable, though he didn’t know why.  He watched them walk away and stared after them for some moments before he finally screwed his courage to the sticking place, as they say, and turned to face Bruce.

"She’s intense," he commented quietly.  

===

Batman raised an eyebrow. “I just spent the past six hours with her.  _Intense_  isn’t the word I would use.” He started walking. He didn’t know to where, he just wanted to walk. And of course his guard walked with him, though with Superman for company, she kept a more respectful distance. “What have you seen of the palace?”

===

Clark walked along beside the man, not so close as to make him uncomfortable but close enough that he wouldn’t seem like he was still mad.  He realized once he saw Bruce that he had let all that go at some point, though he couldn’t really pinpoint when or why.

"Diana wasn’t kidding when she said she’d shown me ‘most everything,’" he said.  "I feel like I’ve been on a very long museum tour led by a very enthusiastic guide."

===

"Can you blame her?" It came off as mostly a rhetorical question.

===

Clark nodded.  ”I didn’t mean that I didn’t enjoy it… I just found it a bit overwhelming at times.”  He shrugged.  ”But there are obviously worse problems to have.”

===

"Hm." Bruce wasn’t sure what to add onto that. He wasn’t sure of anything he could say at all, really. He had accepted that words weren’t his specialty. But he drifted closer to Clark, because Clark was painfully far away, and he liked to think…Well. He wasn’t sure of that, either.

"This is my stop," he said quietly, standing in front of the entrance to the southwest tower. His room was by itself on the third floor. Small, compact, quiet; all the things he liked. "I’ll see you at dinner tonight, Superman."

===

Clark noticed Bruce move a little closer, and it was a great temptation to move a little closer himself, maybe so that their arms would brush against one another.  But Bruce had done it subtly… Clark probably would not have, and Bruce would have noticed either way, so he settled for what he could get.

"See you later, Batman," he said with a little nod when they parted.  He thought then how unfortunate it was that that guard had been there.  If they had been alone, Bruce probably would have called him Clark… and he’d have given a lot at that moment to hear Bruce say his name.

He sighed to himself as he walked along, hands folded behind his back.

&&&

That evening, he heard a knock at the door, which was promptly pushed open before he could respond.  It was Gisela, but her guard uniform from earlier had been replaced by her feast day finest — a seafoam colored gown and gold jewelry, plus her strawberry blonde hair was piled atop her head in a fancy style that just made her look even taller than she already was.

"I am here to escort you to the feast," she said.

He nodded.  ”Fine.  Thank you.”  She offered him her arm, and he had to admit that he was starting to feel like a trophy.  But he took the proffered arm and walked along quietly, occasionally glancing up at the woman beside him.

She led him to a large, U-shaped dining table.  Hippolyta was at the very center, with Diana on her right and Agatha on her left.  When he came in, they all rose.  All, that is, but Agatha… not that Clark minded.  He wouldn’t have minded if they hadn’t acknowledged him at all, but he didn’t suppose that was the idea behind the whole celebration.

He was led to the seat beside Diana.

===

The feast was lit with rows of torches along the wall, each acting as a bright beacon against the night sky beyond the windows. Cool ocean breezes rolled in over the palace walls to greet them, but most were lost in the stifling heat of the room.

Bruce never thought he felt uncomfortable wearing his uniform, but here, he wouldn’t dare to take it off.

When Clark arrived, the whole room went silent for his announcement. Bruce rose with the rest of them, though he took his time.

He wished he could turn on his visor to hide his eyes. They would not leave the image of the Amazon accompanying Clark.

"My sisters and mothers; granddaughters, nieces and aunts: Superman of Metropolis," Queen Hippolyta said, gesturing with an arm. Then she held out her other. "Batman of Gotham."

The Amazons gathered gave their applause. Then the Queen bowed her head and sat, and the feast itself properly began.

Food was brought out first. There were three whole suckling pigs, one for each wing of the table, and plates of fruits and vegetables were decorated like flower vases in between the breads and chickens. Some servants cut the meats on request of the gathered royalty, while others poured the wines over their shoulders.

Music was played by three women in ceramic masks depicting their Muse. The Amazons ate and chattered, some erupting in laughter and most acting as though it weren’t as formal a matter as it appeared. Bruce thought he’d liked to have seen what dinner was like in the barracks, if this was what Amazonian royalty called etiquette. Not that they were barbarians, but in comparison, Gotham society had more expectations.

It was refreshing. Bruce listened as he picked at his food, listened to a story about battle practice and another about gossip concerning the Saharan colony. He wondered what became of Macaria.

He glanced at Clark, and wondered if he knew.

===

Clark blushed at the fuss that was made over him.  They fussed a bit over Bruce, but they treated Clark like he was a prince or something.  He wondered if they knew how much exactly Bruce was responsible for the fact that things hadn’t ended in complete catastrophe.  He wondered if it would make a difference anyways.

But the food, at least, was quite good.  He ate politely and glanced over at Bruce every once in a while.  He looked like he was almost enjoying himself, and that was a comfort.  

He’d have kind of liked it if he had been able to sit next to Bruce.  But Diana wasn’t a bad dinner companion, and he was actually grateful to have her beside him.

"How are you enjoying your feast?" she asked at one point.

Clark smiled.  ”It isn’t  _my_  feast.”

"That doesn’t answer my question," Diana said, sipping her wine.

 _Hm_.  He hadn’t realized that he occasionally did that evasive thing, too.  He gave a little sigh and said, “It’s all wonderful.  I’m having a nice time.”

"You don’t look particularly happy," she remarked.

"I’m not  _un_ happy,” he said.  ”I’m just… thinking.”  She nodded quietly and looked at him, though it felt rather like she was looking through him.  Again, he felt uncomfortable and longed to get conversation started again… but directed away from him.  ”How are  _you_  enjoying the feast?”

She smiled.  ”It is just what I hoped it would be.”  Then she titled her head in her mother’s direction and said, “This is how she likes things to be done.”

Clark nodded.  ”And how  _are_  things between the two of you?”

"I think we will be fine," Diana said stoutly.  "She is starting to see that I am a grown woman and she cannot keep me by her side forever.  And she is beginning to see that there may be some value in the unknown.  But change comes slowly, both to our way of life and our relationship.  But it is coming."

Clark smiled and sipped his wine.  That was good news, at least.

===

They had been organized into social groups, Bruce realized quickly. Sometimes that meant families were together, though more often than not the Amazons had chosen friends to surround themselves with. It was an interesting dynamic. He figured that as a warrior culture they probably recognized the bonds of sisterhood being just as strong as the bonds of family, if not more.

Queen Hippolyta rose, and without a moment’s hesitation, the whole dining hall went silent.

"My sisters," she began, smiling like she was the mother of them all, "we are gathered here today because of three extraordinary people. We owe them our lives as well as our livelihood, and though no single one can be said to be greater than the others, if you’ll forgive a mother’s bias I must say that the least of which is my daughter, Princess Diana. Because of her and her newfound friends, Themiscyra will live to see another sunrise in the morning."

She stopped and let her shoulders slump and her gaze fall. “I wish I could say the same for our sisters in the Sahara. Their banishment was their own choice, and when they return we will be there to greet them.

"But this is not a time of mourning. Tonight is a time we look to the future." She nodded to Diana.

===

Clark watched as Diana rose gracefully.  She smiled down at him and then over to Bruce.

“Thank you, Mother, for that lovely introduction,” Diana began, taking Hippolyta’s hand.  ”Your support means more to me than I could have imagined.”  Hippolyta smiled and squeezed her daughter’s hand and sat back down.  

Diana turned back to the general assembly.  ”Sisters, I would like to thank you on behalf of my mother and myself for gathering here this evening to celebrate the continuance of our way of life.  And it is my personal pleasure to celebrate the two new friends, who made it possible for me to stand before you today.”

"The Batman of Gotham City surprised me with his intellect, decisiveness, and skill," she began with a nod to the man in question.  "He welcomed me, an outsider, into his most sacred space because he is dedicated to a cause that is as dear to him as it should be to all of us — justice.  He believes in the importance of doing what is right.  I cannot imagine what would have happened without his brilliant mind and quick thinking.  He truly has the heart of a warrior."

The she turned to Clark.  ”But there is a man among us tonight that I believe we may all thank for our lives.  Superman is not  _just_  a hero to Metropolis or even  _just_  to his whole nation… he proved by his tireless actions that he is a hero to the world.  To everyone.”  She put her hand on his shoulder.  ”This is a man who has dedicated his life to helping those that cannot help themselves.  His strength of body, mind, and character is practically unmatched — and I cannot imagine a better man to possess such extraordinary power.  And his conviction of the value of human life impressed me so that I felt honored to do battle beside him.”

She smiled again at Clark and folder her hands in front of her,  ”I learned from both of these men something I believe it is time we all begin to think about.  I went to these men, a stranger to their world and way of life, but still they helped me.  They fought beside me because they saw value in me, my experiences, which were so different from their own.  I saw firsthand that there is no shame in asking for help… and sometimes, it is necessary.  I saw for myself that reaching out to those who are different from oneself can have a value of its own.  This has been a big step in the right direction for our people, accepting help from outsiders.  I hope that in future, we may continue to learn from their society, and they from ours.”

She lifted her glass.  ”And now, I would like to toast to these two great men, Superman and Batman.  On behalf of my people, I thank you both and declare that from this day forward we will consider you both our friends.”

===

It wasn’t merely a polite applause that went with Diana’s speech. The Amazonians gathered downright cheered, and Queen Hippolyta, bowed her head in respect to an outvoted opinion. Then she rose and spread her arms wide. “Let the feast begin!”

That started Bruce.  _Begin_? Hadn’t they already been feasting? But then the cooks came out with even  _more_  food, people started getting up and mingling, and the musicians played a dancing tune for the crowd. All at once, the atmosphere went from formal to…domestic. Homely. It was actually quite a pleasant surprise, though after what Diana had said about him, he had thought there were no surprises left.

Agatha moved her arm beside him, grabbing Bruce’s attention. “You could leave now, if you wanted. They would understand. After all, one does not wear black in order to stand out.”

Bruce kept his lips carefully flat. “Thanks,” he said. When he stood he bowed deeply to Queen Hippolyta, and she in turn bowed politely to him. “Your Majesty,” he added, and he took his leave quietly, though this time no vanguard walked in his wake.

He wished he had stayed, he thought honestly to himself. But Batman had no place in a room like that. Though once in his chambers he could shed his uniform, and carry the warmth of the evening into his meditative silence.

===

Clark had probably never been so embarrassed in his life as he was during that speech.  Flattered, sure, but definitely embarrassed.  His cheeks stayed rosy, and if he hadn’t been… well,him… he’d have thought the wine had gone to his head.  But high praise was a bit like alcohol in that way.

When people got up and started mingling, he felt much better.  At a party, he was never the center of attention, and that was kind of the way he preferred it.  But people kept filing around and speaking to him, offering even more thanks or asking questions.  One woman grinned and asked him how he kept the one curl on his forehead in place and so neat.  No one ever believed that his hair just naturally  _did_  that.

When Bruce left, Clark saw him go.  It wasn’t that he’d been watching, but his eyes had just sort of been drawn that way by the sweep of his cape.  He wondered if anything was wrong or if he was just slipping away because he’d prefer not to deal with the crowd.  Probably the latter.

He was obliged to dance with no less than a dozen women who towered over him.  And every time he thought about sitting down, someone showed up with more food and offered it to him, and he knew it would have been bad manners to say no.

The party continued around him, and he started to wish he could just have a moment to himself.  He felt a little ungrateful, but he asked Diana, “Would it be terribly rude of me to leave for a bit?  I’d just like to take a walk or something… clear my head a little.”

She patted his hand.  ”That’s fine.  I know this must all be a bit much.  Take your time.”

He gave a grateful smile and started to walk.  He hadn’t really been intending to, but he found himself approaching the southwest tower.  He glanced up and wondered if… 

Well, maybe he  _had_  been intending to walk this way all along.

He didn’t want to corner Bruce… really, he didn’t.  But he’d also like to talk to him.  It didn’t even have to be anything life changing… he’d just like to be able to have an easy back and forth with him, like they had done so many times before.

Maybe this was the best time for it.

He looked at the guard outside the tower and asked, “Do you suppose it would be… okay… if I went up and knocked on his door?”  He was probably doing something slightly underhanded… he knew she wouldn’t say no to him.  And she didn’t let him down.  He was permitted to go inside.  He told himself it was okay to go up there, because if Bruce didn’t want him to come in, he wouldn’t let him.  And in that case, he’d go… what he would do with himself then, he didn’t know, but he’d go… if that was what Bruce wanted.

He walked up the steps to the third floor and took a deep breath before he knocked lightly on the door.


	4. Chapter 4

Sound traveled well on the island. There were no cars, no airplanes, no millions of people in too small a space. Even all the way in his tower he could hear the party on the other end of the palace. If he listened closely he liked to imagine he could hear individual voices, too. But that was all in his head. He was no Superman.

Still, he only heard Clark because he had been listening. Lithe as a jungle cat and silent as an owl’s wings, he swung down from the rooftop and perched with bent knees in the window, the one just beside Clark outside his door. He had stripped down to his under armor: a simple set of skintight dark clothes that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it.

"You rang?"

===

"You left the party kind of early," Clark said.  "I was wondering if you were okay."

===

Bruce quirked out a smile across his lips. “Batman’s not much of a party person,” he said. “Coming up, or do you have a party to get back to, now that you know I’m just brooding on the roof?”

===

Clark gave a little half smile.  ”Between you, me, and the fence post, I’ve had enough party to last me for a little while.”

===

Bruce snorted with amusement. “How many proposals did you get?” he asked, swinging his legs parallel to the ground to reach the rooftop again. He walked towards the center before sitting down on the eastern edge, facing in towards the palace.

===

"Everyone was quite respectful," he said.  Then with a little laugh, he added, "But there were a few cheeky remarks and slightly off-color jokes."  He didn’t mention Gisela’s offer to make sure he was  _comfortable_ … that’d likely ground the conversation to a halt.

===

"You get used to it." Bruce nodded to the space next to him. "Sit. It’s a lovely evening."

===

Clark laughed to himself.  He hoped he didn’t  _have_  to get used to it.  He came and sat down beside Bruce.  

He wasn’t sure what to say now.  It was quiet, but not quite uncomfortable or awkward.  But he didn’t know how long they’d have… how long Bruce would be able to do this.

So he sighed softly and said, “Thanks, by the way, for putting me in touch with Dinah Lance.”  He should have said it some time ago.

===

"I take it you’ve had an appointment with her." He wanted to ask,  _How did it go_? He wanted to ask,  _Have you been able to sleep at all_? But Bruce found himself only capable of looking at Clark, and trying to convey what he wanted to say in that.

===

Clark could see more than just curiosity on Bruce’s face.  There was genuine concern there, too.

"I did see her, yeah," he said with a nod, looking forward.  "I had already had an appointment with Dr. Bantham, the therapist I’d seen before… but she could only be so much help since there was so much I couldn’t tell her.  She gave me a prescription for Generalized Anxiety Disorder which wouldn’t help my nightmares because trouble sleeping is a big side effect with them… not that they’d have done anything with my physiology being…  _different_.”

He paused and looked back at Bruce.  ”But Dinah was a big help.  I mean, I’ve only seen her once now, but it felt like it helped some.”  He shrugged and looked forward again.  ”I haven’t had to replace any lamps the last couple of days anyways.”

===

Bruce nodded. He watched the lights flicker from the dining hall, listened as what sounded like a cheery folk song drifted from the windows. He couldn’t make out the words, but the laughter that burst forth after the last line was indicative enough.

"You know I don’t sleep much nights," he said suddenly. "If you ever…" He waved his hand and looked further away from Clark. "I always leave my communicator on."

===

Clark gave a little sideways smile and looked down at the hands folded politely in his lap.  ”I’ll remember that.”

He listened to the music in silence for a few minutes before he found himself saying, “I’m not.  Mad, I mean.”  He didn’t even know what made him say it… but it was just as well that he’d spat it out.

===

"I’m sure I’ll find some way to fix that."

===

Clark snorted a laugh and played with a stray piece of thread of the hem of his cape.  ”I’m sure you will.  But I just thought I should say… in case you ever wondered.”

===

Bruce hummed. He had, in fact, been wondering. He had been wondering about a lot of things lately, if he was honest with himself. Most recently — apart from Clark being mad or not — he had been wondering about the island.

Ever since he arrived, things had been…odd. First, he had shown up at night without much fanfare. Queen Hippolyta had given him a room in a relatively secluded tower, and though he did receive guards he was also not told what he could do or where he could not go, though some of those places were obvious.

Agatha had brought him straight to the Javelin after he had been shown his chambers. She allowed him to tinker, break, bend and rewire as he pleased, fixing only what needed to be fixed. She did not demand conversation from him. She also had been the reason he kept his utility belt strapped across his waist, which surely would have tripped every alarm in his head if he had been forced to part with it.

In short, he couldn’t help but feel the only reason he was as relaxed as he was right now, was because he had been manipulated since the moment he arrived. They — probably all Agatha’s doing, actually —  _wanted_  him to be relaxed, and part of him wanted to rebel against that notion just for the sake of declaring his own prerogative. Bruce was not a person who took orders well.

But they never were  _orders_ , per say, and sitting next to Clark with more stars above him than he had ever seen before, he was actually kind of glad for the efforts the Amazonians went through on his behalf.

"I want to tell you something," he said to Clark.

===

Clark watched Bruce’s face to see if he could detect what emotions might be hiding underneath.  He had his guesses, but he had to admit that he didn’t know what Bruce could possibly want to tell him.

"Go ahead," he said, trying to keep his voice even.

===

Bruce had to steal a breath for himself. Oddly enough, his heart wasn’t quite leaping out of his chest. But there was still time for that.

"When I was eight, my parents took me to see a rendition of  _The Mask of Zorro_ in one of Gotham’s last remaining opera houses. My father was always fond of the opera. He didn’t like movies and he liked television even less, so I guess he thought it was a sort of compromise with my mother, to see a more contemporary show.

"We left early. What happened after that is a story well known by the public." He chanced a glance at Clark, just to see if he was keeping up.

===

Clark gulped and hugged his knees to his chest.  He  _did_  know the story.  He remembered seeing on the news when he was a kid, around the same age.  ”My soul and body, that poor child!” he now remembered his mother saying.  His father had tsked and shook his head, and put his arm around Clark’s shoulder.  He even remembered seeing Bruce’s picture in the paper at one point, an adult Clark hadn’t paid much attention to trying to shield the boy from the camera as his dull, almost hollow eyes stared forward.

He remembered being terrified, because if it could happen to that boy, it could happen to anyone… and he remembered saying an extra prayer of thanks for his parents and his life every night for the next month.

But he hadn’t thought much about it since… but Bruce would obviously think about it everyday.

Clark tilted his head slightly.  ”That’s why you do what you do, isn’t it?”

===

"Mm. I made a promise to myself, before their bodies were even cold. I didn’t realize what it was until weeks later. But after that I called it my Mission, and in my Mission there wasn’t room for…"

And  _now_  Bruce’s heart started jumping out of his chest. Clark was too close and yet too far, too much and still too little. His fingers twitched but he kept his hands in place. He couldn’t look anywhere but forward with his eyes.

"For romance. For relationships, for attachments. I swore myself to Gotham, and no, I don’t plan on revoking that oath any time soon." He frowned and looked down. "But the world is changing. It’s getting — bigger. I’m sitting next to an alien on a rooftop overlooking an Amazonian palace, for Christ’s sake. No offense."

===

Clark could hear Bruce’s heart quicken.  His was too, now that he thought about it.  But he still didn’t know where exactly all of this was leading,

"None taken," Clark replied, looking at Bruce curiously.  He was going to let Bruce say whatever he needed to say before he gave himself time to react.

===

He could have said,  _If the world’s getting bigger, my Mission could, too_. But that was open to conjecture and analysis, and he couldn’t honestly tell himself if it was true or not. Not this early on.

He could have echoed Macaria, whose voice still lingered in his mind,  _I was wrong_. But that would need explanation and frankly, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the anxiety eating away at him.

The words Bruce chose were simpler than any of that. ”I wish I hadn’t said yes, back on the plane.”

===

Clark bit his lip and nodded.  ”I probably shouldn’t have pushed.  But… does that mean there’s a possibility…?”

He wrinkled his nose and looked away again, because he couldn’t quite bring himself to say any more.  He couldn’t take the chance that he’d say the wrong thing and scare Bruce away, or that he’d put himself out there only to have Bruce say that he was flattered, of course, but there would always be his mission.

===

"A possibility." Bruce’s eyes dropped down to his hands, then over to Clark’s. "I think that’s more your decision than mine."

His cards were on the table: he had his Mission, he had his responsibilities and he had his expectations, both as Batman and Bruce Wayne. And he had issues, the least of which was his shared nightmares with Clark.

Most of those consisted of being burned alive or choking on Poison Ivy’s grasp these days. Two near-death experiences in less than a week, and he had yet to thank Clark for saving his life both times.

He had wondered, at one point, if this — this growing hope, this raging desire — was just some manifestation of his gratitude and nothing more. But then he remembered coffee and Alfredo, and being pinned down with a hand on his chest and a single intrusive thought occupying his mind. If this was gratitude, it was for the simple fact that Clark had introduced himself in Kasnia, and for getting his laugh stuck in Bruce’s head.

Bruce curled his lips in and licked at them. If his heart had been beating fast before, now it was indistinguishable from a solid dead weight in his chest. Either beating too quickly or beating too slow, he couldn’t tell. He had his Mission, yes, and he had his expectations and he had his responsibilities — but he wanted to have Clark, too, as much as Clark would allow.

===

 

Clark smiled .  That was… better than he could have hoped.  More than he expected.  Everything he wanted.

"I’ve never worked very hard to hide how I felt," he began.  "Except when I was terrified that I’d gone too far or said too much."  His heart was pounding, too.  "And in case I forget to say it, it means so much to me that you trusted me enough to open up to me."

He took a deep breath and stretched his legs out in front of him.  It was ridiculous, him feeling so nervous… but if he was being honest with himself (and now seemed a good time for it), he knew he was nervous because the stake were so high.  Because it would have to be complicated by the very nature of their lives… and because he was already in so deep.  He’d never felt quite like this before.

But he looked at Bruce then and reached toward his hand.  ”If you’re asking me a yes or no question, the answer is yes.”

===

Bruce watched Clark’s hand. It was, like so many things he struggled with, a simple gesture. Though perhaps its intimidation lie within what it seemed to promise: closeness, openness, an acceptance of another mind in another body to possibly influence his own further than he could ever prepare for.

For a moment, he wanted to run. He has gone too far, he had let Clark in too much. It was the damn island and its perfect atmosphere, it was his desperation and clingy greediness that he needed to suppress.

And then he brushed his knuckles under Clark’s palm and everything else stepped away. He curled his fingers between Clark’s, and everything else became illogical.

His head started to hurt from all the blood rushing through it.

"You should get back to the party before you’re missed," Bruce spoke softly. He didn’t let go of Clark’s hand.

===

He didn’t want to let go of Bruce’s hand.  He didn’t want to move from that exact spot and that exact moment… unless it was to move closer.

But he smiled as he asked, “Tired of me already?”  Because he was pretty sure Bruce didn’t _really_  want him to go… not deep down, anyways.

===

"Mm, I was tired of you in Kasnia," Bruce said. He pulled Clark’s hand closer to him. An altogether playful expression found its way to his lips.

===

"Oh, I could tell," Clark said with a smile.  Then he bit his lip and tentatively offered, "You should… probably get used to being tired of me… since I’m gonna be around."  This was the test.

===

 _Around_. His mind was not so flooded with endorphins that he missed the word.

"If you’re going to be around," Bruce began, studying Clark’s fingers trapped between his own, "then you should be around." He brushed his lips against the nail of one, looking up with an invitation in his eyes. He licked his lips.

===

Clark nodded.  He tried to say  _something_ , but he realized his eyes had flown to Bruce’s lips and seemed to be stuck there.  He wouldn’t be able to manage a sensible word.

He moved a little closer.  ”I think I like…” A little closer still.  ”The sound of that.”  He closed the distance between them and his lips found Bruce’s.

===

Every pipeline in his body burst at the seams when Clark brought then together. Bruce felt like not a day had gone by between them. He felt like he could still taste Alfredo and noodles, as if they had just left his kitchen, but this time he had no plans on running away.

He tilted his head and deepened the kiss, moving slowly and passionately, savoring every sweet scent and flavor that was Clark, Clark’s mouth, Clark’s lips. No matter what he did it wasn’t enough. He hoped and he feared that it wouldn’t ever be enough.

===

Kissing Bruce was… perfect.  There were really no other words to use.  Perfect.  

He let out the smallest little moan as Bruce deepened the kiss and explored his mouth.  He still held tight to Bruce’s hand, but his other hand made its way to rest on Bruce’s knee.  

It felt just as amazing as he remembered it feeling that night in Bruce’s kitchen. but this time there was no undercurrent of tension and uncertainty.  They both knew where they stood now — together.  And he couldn’t help thinking back to the night of the Martha Wayne Foundation dinner when he’d flirted so shamelessly and awkwardly… but none of that mattered anymore.  Not at all. 


	5. Chapter 5

Blood was no longer running to Bruce’s  _head_.

He had to break for air. He had to break for air, run away, crawl into Clark’s arms, never leave his ‘Cave, and tell the whole world he just kissed Superman. He just kissed Clark Kent.

He needed to get a hold of himself.

"You really should get back," he said between breaths. They were exposed up here, he realized too late. Anyone could have seen them in passing. Bruce closed his eyes and bumped his forehead against Clark’s. "I’m expected to talk to the Queen about Ra’s tomorrow morning, actually."

===

Clark closed his eyes and licked his lips, which were now red and tasted like Bruce.  He leaned into Bruce’s forehead and let go of his hand, but he hooked their pinkies together.  He wasn’t ready to let go all the way.

"You’re probably right," he said softly.  "I’m thinking that if I don’t leave now I may never… and that would be pretty rude to our hostesses."  He smiled and gave Bruce one more quick peck before he got up.

"I’ll see ya," he said.

===

Bruce was actually surprised by the peck, and he simultaneously winced and smiled in response. When he looked up, he was just smiling. “Good night, Clark.”

===

Clark smiled as he left and walked back to the party.  Everyone was still eating, drinking, dancing, talking, and laughing as the musicians played.  

He hoped he wasn’t blushing and grinning, but he felt like he probably was.  He wasn’t able to keep in when he was happy… and right now, he was really happy.  As he approached the party, he stopped and glanced back toward the southwest tower… and he was sure then that he was being obvious.

Diana was twirling around with a girl named Agrippina.  When she saw him come back to the party, she drifted in his direction and asked, “How was your walk?”

He nodded.  ”Fine.  Great.”

She smiled.  ”I see.  I’m glad you were able to clear your head.”

Yes, he was probably too obvious.  But he couldn’t bring himself to care.

===

Bruce eyes followed Clark as he left, and when he disappeared back into the depths of the palace, he swung back to his room. He would have stayed out longer — the air really was refreshing, especially with the sea right beside them — but there was a growing  _concern_  in his groin, and try as he might he couldn’t banish the thoughts that brought it out.

He bit down on his hand to keep from crying out.

&&&

When the morning light broke across his face, Bruce woke with a vague memory of searching for something. He had been in the palace and he had been looking desperately for — for a room. But he kept getting distracted and he kept getting lost, and for some reason he had decided that wandering aimlessly would have arrived him at the room sooner.

Bruce shook his head and donned his armor. In his years training, he had met a man who said dreams were the vision of the future. If that were true, then Bruce’s future was somewhere between decapitated and married with five kids. It was a toss up.

Queen Hippolyta was waiting for him with a full entourage outside the tower. “Your Majesty,” Bruce said politely, bowing. “You could have knocked.”

"I’ve actually only just arrived to do so." She turned to a trio of women behind her. "Batman, these are my advisers. They will be listening to our conversation, if you don’t mind."

"Your island."

The Queen smiled. “Then walk with me, and tell me more about this Ra’s al Ghul my daughter mentioned.”

===

When the party finally broke up in the wee hours of the morning, Clark was happy that he managed to escape without having Gisela escort him back to his chambers as she had offered.  Bruce had said that he’d get used to being ogled like that, but he didn’t imagine he’d get used to politely refusing a woman who could probably toss him over her shoulder if she wanted to.

But once he was back in his room and alone, he stripped down to his underwear and slipped into bed.  But before he could fall asleep, he realized he was smiling.

Bruce  _liked_  him.

&&&

He woke up in the morning and realized with a smile that he hadn’t dreamed at all… no good ones, but no bad ones.  That was enough.  He went to the window and gazed out over the island, which really was quite beautiful.  He realized that no one had no plans for the day… no one had asked anything of him.  

He could only wonder what the day held.  Though with any luck, he’d get to see Bruce again.  And he could keep it PG, if that was how it needed to be… he’d just… like to see him.

===

Diana joined them at one point, along with Artemis, whom Bruce was having a hard time deciding was actually the goddess herself or just an Amazon with her namesake.

He skirted the topic of Talia. She was mentioned, along with Bane, but seeing as how neither of them remained under the direct influence of Ra’s anymore, that was all.

"I see," Queen Hippolyta said, and the she was silent as they finished their second round of the lily pool. A servant had come out with a large fan for shade. The day was shaping up to be a hot one.

The Queen came up short at a tangential path. “Thank you, Batman, for all that you have done. We will have to enact certain…precautions, now that this man knows our location.”

Batman kept his thoughts on that subject. “What happened to the girl, Macaria? We haven’t heard of her since our arrival.”

A dark shadow passed over Hippolyta’s eyes. “She has been dealt with by Amazonian law. That is all you need to know.”

Bruce looked to Diana. Diana held her gaze.

"Take the day to rest if you wish," Hippolyta continued. "We ourselves have celebrations yet still, but you and Superman must be busy in your world. Diana will see you home on the Javelin when you’re ready."

Bruce bowed again as Hippolyta left. He suddenly felt as uncomfortable as he knew he should have been from the moment he arrived, and without hesitation he asked if the plane could be ready by noon. She said yes.

And then he went to find Clark. The palace guards pointed the way to his room.

Bruce didn’t knock. He just quietly slipped inside, closed the door behind him, an held the faintest smile on his lips.

===

Clark looked up from the book he was reading with a smile on his face.  Or, rather, he looked up from the book he had picked up about two seconds ago because he heard Bruce coming and didn’t want to look like he’d been sitting around waiting for him.

“‘Morning,” he said brightly, sitting the book on the table beside him.

===

Bruce cast an incredulous eye around the room. “You have quite the room,” he said, lingering on the statue of Athena. He wondered what made them decide to pick this.

Batman stalked the distance between them. “Sleep well?”

===

Clark nodded.  ”I did, matter of fact.”  Clark got up and walked a couple of steps closer.  ”How about you?”  Then with a smile he added, “If you  _did_  sleep, that is.”

===

"Mm." Bruce didn’t answer anything more than that. He kind of liked the reputation as a sleepless terror of the night, and to hide his embarrassment at the thoughts of what he did just  _before_  falling asleep, his took Clark’s mouth in his own. It had been a whole six hours before since the last time. That was just too long.

===

Clark could get used to this.  He was planning to, in fact.

He pulled Bruce close, hands creeping up his sides.  He ran the tip of his tongue along Bruce’s bottom lip and sighed.

"I think I forgot to mention this last night, but you’re  _really_  good at this,” he breathed, pulling away long enough to gush a little.  He couldn’t help it… now that things were different…  _wonderfully_ different… he wanted to say everything,  It felt good not to have to hold it all in.

===

Bruce felt like he might have shivered, if he weren’t keeping control of himself. “You’re not so bad yourself,” he husked out. His lips worked against Clark’s, lapping a few times before he had to pull away again.

He was wonderfully tangled with Clark, his own arms settled on Clark’s hips. Bruce almost leaned forward. “I can’t stay. I have things to do before I leave.”

===

Clark nodded.  ”That’s fine… I should probably leave soon as well.”  But again he found himself not wanting to let go.  He might have worried it would become a problem… if it didn’t make him so happy.

Had it really only been a day ago when he was scared to even look at Bruce?  It didn’t seem possible.

"Thanks for dropping by though," he said with a smile.

===

He answered with a kiss, holding it as long as he could before the nagging feeling of needing to go became too much to ignore. “My house, dinner.” Then, dropping his voice low, he whispered into Clark’s ear, “Come in through the balcony.”

Then Bruce was leaving, throwing a quick glance back in the room before he was gone. Batman had work to do. If the Amazons weren’t going to tell him what he wanted to know, he’d just find out anyways.

&&&

Later, Agatha ended up accompanying him and Diana on the plane ride back. She pulled out a half-eaten book that Bruce flipped through, glancing at technical drawings of the Javelin along the way.

"I believe this will be of more use to you than to me," she said.

Bruce spent the whole ride studying that book, and the odd language it was written in.

===

Clark watched Bruce leave and smiled to himself, covering his mouth with his hand.  Then he went to the window and made sure that Bruce was nowhere nearby… and when he was sure the other man was gone, he collapsed onto the bed on his back, grinning like an idiot.  He hugged his pillow to his chest and tried in vain to stop acting like a schoolgirl with a crush.

&&&

He decided to leave sometime later.  He had to get back to Metropolis and he had writing to do before he showed his face in the office again.  

He asked one of the guards outside his room if he was meant to go to Hippolyta to take his leave, and she told him that someone would be along to escort him to her in a few moments.  He wasn’t even surprised to see Gisela come to his door.

As she presented him to Hippolyta, she said, “I do hope you return.”

He forced a smile.  ”I’m sure I will at some point.”

Hippolyta looked at him and stood up.  ”You wish to leave so soon?”

"I have to get back to my city," he said.  

"You will miss saying your farewells to my daughter," she said.  "But I suppose your apologies can be made for you."

Clark smiled.  ”I hoped as much.  Thank you for making me feel so at home… I enjoyed my stay here.”  Hippolyta nodded, and Clark left.  

===

Six hours on a technological marvel meant that even the finest service and plushest seats on any human aircraft would never suffice. What’s more, he arrived in Gotham around the same time he left in Themiscyra, thanks to the time zones. That gave Bruce valuable extra hours in his day.

Alfred greeted him in the ‘Cave’s hanger. “Good afternoon, Master Bruce. I trust all went well in the world of the Amazons? Or did you manage to destroy humanity’s reputation in one fell swoop.”

"Hello, Alfred. Everything went fine, thanks."

He felt Alfred’s eyes staring at the back of his head. Bruce almost hummed as he called Barbara through his Bat computer.

"N-yellow?"

"How’s Gotham been?"

"Oh, it’s you. You should get caller ID."

"That would defeat the purpose of an encrypted conversation. Are these new case files?" Bruce slid the folders apart from each other.

"One is, the others are cold cases I think are related. You should also know that I finally finished cataloging all the damage during the Battle, including every company involved in the repairs so far. Hold on." Bruce heard Barbara move the phone away from her mouth and talk to someone else. "Sorry, I’m back. Anything else?"

He made a thoughtful sound at the first case file. “No. Good work.”

"Uh…thanks. I’ll see you tonight?"

"Busy. I’ll see you on patrol."

"Okay. Bye!"

Bruce let Barbara disconnect. He was reading the file in front of him for the third time.

_Survivor says it was a giant crocodile that attacked them…_

_  
_===

He knew he could only stay on Perry’s good side for so long.  The Wonder Woman piece he had written had had Perry clapping him on the back and calling him by his first name, but all that had ended rather abruptly when he turned in the article he whipped out when he got home.

"What in the damn hell is this, Kent?" Perry demanded.

Clark looked down at his hands.  ”I… uh…”

"You uh better talk a little faster," Perry said impatiently.  "Because when you left here, when I graciously let you go, it was my understanding that you had a big lead… but you come back here and hand me this.  A story about birds."

"Rare and endangered birds," Clark offered.

Perry sighed heavily.  ”What the Sam Hill’s a matter with you, boy?”

Clark furrowed his brows.  ”Nothing, sir.  I… I had another lead but it went cold.  So I made the most of the trip and wrote what I could.”  He shrugged.  ”It won’t hurt my feelings if you don’t run it.”

Perry nodded.  ”I’ll see what I can do with it.  It isn’t a bad piece… isn’t particularly newsworthy…”  He looked up at Clark after a moment and asked quite out of the blue, “Were you planning on turning in a piece to try for that new feature?  The fiction segment the new owner ordered?”

Clark smiled.  Like a lovesick kid, he smiled at the mere mention of Bruce.  But… he had to turn that smile into something he could tell Perry.  ”Yes, sir, I am.  I’ve been working on something…”

"Well, let’s just play to your strengths," Perry said.  "You work on that… and stick close to Lois when you’ve got something like this on your plate."  Perry sat down behind his desk and cast a rather disappointed look up at Clark.  "She wouldn’t have let  _her_  lead go cold.”

Clark walked out of Perry’s office and back over towards his desk.  He’d have really rather gotten yelled at than gotten the disappointed face.  And now he was back to having Lois babysit him.  He thought about the fiction piece, the one that Bruce had suddenly thought of after Clark had let slip his silly dream of writing a novel, and realized that the submissions were due by the end of the week… and he was going to have something good to turn in.  Really good. 

===

Bruce started pulling the tie off the moment he fell into the car. Alfred cleared his throat. “Home, sir?”

"Please. Already sick of being here." He watched the Wayne Enterprises office fade into the background. Lucius had needed him to come in immediately for a meeting with Queen Industries CEO, Moira.

"I’m thinking chicken carbonara for dinner, Alfred. Family style."

Alfred glanced at him through the mirror. “Very good, sir. The prosciutto will need to be ordered from the store, though.”

"I’ll take it in my bedroom when it’s ready." Bruce kept his eyes on the streets passing by. Several blocks passed before Alfred finally decided to comment.

"I rescind my previous statement. I should have sent you to Themiscyra months ago."

&&&

The fire had been lit in his bedroom. Bruce had debated over every detail of the evening — where to sit the table, which cloth to use, which china to dust off, if he should use china at all, what to wear, what to say, what to do — but that, the fire, had been the only thing he couldn’t think of  _not_  doing. He even chopped the logs outside the shed himself, mostly to burn off energy.

He checked his wounds, too, when running through every possibility through his head. The bruising had gone down, though some areas were stiff despite the heat compresses. He’d have a dent where the bullet was for a while longer, and his ribs would be another few weeks to really heal. It was surprising to think that so much happened in such a short time.

It was surprisingly, to say the least. to think he was about to invite Clark over for dinner.

He had no idea what to say. If Clark were a woman and if he were playing under his socialite mask it would be a completely different story. He had that script memorized in sixteen languages.

"You can start by putting on a shirt," Alfred said loudly.

"He’s already seen this," Bruce replied. He stepped out of the bathroom and went to his closet. Alfred had rolled in with his cart and began setting up the table.

"That’s not an excuse, Master Bruce. And while I’d suggest something less formal, I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest  _that_.”

Bruce looked down at the shirt he was holding. Normally he left this sort of garment in the Batcave where it belonged, but he must have stumbled up to his bedroom and forgotten it here after binge engineering. It had three different kinds of stains in fifteen different places.

He sighed and tossed it in the hamper. The rest of his closet consisted of suits, vests, collared shirts and stiff button-downs. To say he scowled at the selection was an understatement. The only damn places he wore those things were at meetings or in public.

Alfred cleared his throat beside him. “If I may be so bold,” he started, and Bruce moved aside for him. After a bit of rifling Alfred walked out of the closet with a white shirt that had an artful design of a tree in black, and a long-sleeve black button-down that, while not particularly wrinkled, looked like it could use three or four passes with the hot iron. It was perfect.

"When did I buy this?" Bruce asked.

"Oh, you saw it in a passing window display and had me go back for it later."

Bruce felt his lips twitch. “I should send you for clothes more often.” He quickly pulled the shirt over his head and worked the button-down over his arms.

"Indeed." Alfred brushed off Bruce’s shoulder. "Now as for the other thing you’ve been fretting over, I’ve found that most conversations go best when they start with a simple—"

&&&

"Hello," Bruce said into the communicator, leaning against his balcony as the sun made its downward spiral.

===

Clark had agonized over his writing all afternoon.  At one point, he’d been staring at his computer screen so hard, Lois thought he’d fallen asleep with his eyes open.

"What’s with you, Smallville?" she asked.  "You’ve been about a hundred and thirty-five miles away from here all day."

He looked at her with an eyebrow quirked.  ”I’m writing.  That’s what we do… if you recall.”

She smiled.  ”Sure.  You just seem… I don’t know.”  She came and sat on the edge of his desk.  ”Say, one of the girls in my building is throwing a party tonight, and I’ve already blown off the last two or three of these things.  I was thinking about letting you keep me company.”

Clark shook his head.  ”I can’t, sorry.  I’ve got plans.”

"Really?" she asked.  "What are you doing?  You have a date?"

Clark looked away.  He shouldn’t really tell her anything, he knew.  But that meant he couldn’t look her in the eye, because somehow she’d be able to tell he was lying.  She couldn’t tell he was Superman, but she always saw through the small lies.  He sighed.  ”It’s nothing special… I just have a thing.”

"A thing?" she asked.  "What kind of a thing?"

"Nothing that concerns you," he replied.  "That kind of thing."

She raised her brow.  ”If it’s no big deal, why can’t I know?”

"I’m not answering that," Clark replied.

She tapped her purple fingernails on the desk and sighed.  ”You’re so secretive all of a sudden.”

"It isn’t  _that_  sudden,” Clark said, trying to sound lighthearted.

She stood up then and furrowed her brow.  ”This is about a story, isn’t it?  This is connected to where you were yesterday.”

Well, that was insightful.  In a way, it  _was_  connected… but not in the way she thought.  So he sighed and said, “Alright, you caught me.  It is a… sort of a date.”  He knew if he said it was about a story, she’s try to tag along… and Superman or not, he’d find it difficult to stop her.

"I knew it!" she crowed.  "Who are you going out with?"

Clark shook his head.  ”It’s… you don’t know him.”  And she didn’t… not really.

"Then why can’t you tell me?" she demanded.

"Why are you so nosy?" he demanded right back.

"investigative reporter, Clark," she sighed.  "It’s my job."

Clark sighed.  ”Lois, I’m not going to talk about this with you.  Not right now.  I don’t want to jinx it.”  But then he smiled and added, “But when I  _am_  ready, you’ll be the first person I tell.  Okay?”

She grumbled and rolled her eyes as she went back to her own desk, and Clark heaved a little sigh of relief.

&&&

After work, he hurried home and started tearing his closet apart looking for the right thing to wear to dinner at Bruce’s.  He had so many things that didn’t fit right or would have looked silly and inappropriate.

He made a note that he’d actually have to get some nice things that weren’t chosen to hide his figure.  He didn’t have to hide anything from Bruce anymore… so he could certainly look nice when they were together.

He had decided on his best jeans (because they actually fit properly) and was stuck between two shirts — a white one that was probably too formal (and had a pointier collar than was fashionable) and a plaid one in about four different shades of blue that fit well and looked pretty nice on him… though it probably was a little too casual.  Well, Bruce knew he was a farmboy…

Just as he was about to take another fruitless look in his closet, he heard Bruce’s voice.  And he smiled, because it felt like it had been  _so_  long since he heard it… though he realized that wasn’t true.

"Hey, you," he said.


	6. Chapter 6

"Hope you’re not agonizing over your wardrobe over there," Bruce said. He could  _feel_  the look Alfred gave him as he quietly left the room. “The cabonara’s getting cold. Are you on your way?”

===

"You know me too well," Clark said with a little smile, deciding, finally on the plaid shirt.  "And that sounds great… I’ll be along soon."

He quickly switched from his work clothes to his uniform and started to take off… but he ran back to the bathroom and brushed his teeth really quick.  Just in case.

And then he took off for a quick flight that had him landing soon on Bruce’s balcony.

===

Bruce looked him up and down. “Do you always fly in your uniform?” he asked, walking inside. The couch had been moved, the table was plainly set, and the fire crackled heartily behind it all.

===

"Usually," Clark said, walking behind him.  "People expect to see Superman flying around.  Clark Kent?  Not so much."

He did a quick spin that had him out of the uniform and in the jeans and plaid shirt he had decided on… and was now question.  He pushed his glasses up his nose and smiled.  ”The fire’s a nice touch.  And you… well, you look great.”

He tried not to look like he was feeling self-conscious.  Confidence wasn’t usually a problem for him… but… he did so want  _everything_  to be right, starting with the way he looked.

===

At the small gust of wind Bruce turned — and smiled at what he saw. He had to take a moment to appreciate the view. “Farmer plaid in Superman blue. It fits— spectacularly.”

His eyes became hooded as he wove an arm across Clark’s back, pressing in on the lines of his shoulders and muscles. “Tell me about your day,” he said, already bringing their lips together.

===

Clark smiled into the kiss and slipped his arm around Bruce.

"Mmm," he sighed, as he broke away, a bit reluctantly.  With a smile, he said, "I had a delightfully average day.  Went to work, got chewed out by Perry, had Lois poke her nose into my business… the usual."

===

He didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. He wanted to stay crawled under Clark’s skin and never let go and make the whole world melt away with those lips.

The memory struck him as if he had walked down a hallway and was suddenly reminded of a painting he had forgotten about. It was just before leaving for Kasnia, when the pressure became too great, and he had opened his filing cabinet and pulled out the identity he needed. It was unmarked and unimportant. It came with an ID and a single diamond earring taped inside.

Bruce broke the kiss with a hum. “You’re not going to have any trouble keeping this quiet with her, are you?” he said.

===

"I don’t tell her everything, you know," Clark said.  He brought his lips back to Bruce’s.  One more kiss couldn’t hurt.

===

Bruce kept it as long as he could, but the longer he kissed, the more his anxiety rose.

"It’s not you I’m worried about, it’s her." He pulled away from Clark and approached the table, pulling out the chair to the right in a beckon for Clark to sit

===

"Well, I’m not telling her, or anyone else, anything," he said, taking his seat.  He shrugged.  "I know you may find this hard to believe, but I’m kind of private, too." 

He offered a little smile to show that he wasn’t offended.

===

"I’ve been meaning to ask about that. It’s been a curiosity of mine since we first met." Bruce sat down across from Clark and folded his hands in front of his mouth. "How do you do it? How do you keep people from finding out?"

===

He shrugged.  ”No one looks close enough to be suspicious.”  He paused a moment and added, “I guess it’s the glasses.”  He smiled and tapped the side of his black eyeglass frame.

===

Bruce traced his eyes over their lines. “Take them off.”

===

Clark bit his lip and reached up to slowly slide the glasses off of his face.

===

Bruce could  _feel_  his eyes dilate, that’s how quickly his mind went to all the wrong places. He quickly picked up his fork and stabbed at a clump of prosciutto, then twirled noodles around the bite.

"Are those real glasses?" he asked, bringing the fork to his mouth.

===

Clark set the glasses down beside his plate and picked up his fork.  He gave a little smile.  ”Yep.  Sixty-nine bucks at LensCrafters.  I got to fake the eye test and everything.”  He took a bite of his pasta.

===

"Hm." Bruce chewed on his food, studying Clark. Every motion caught his eyes and was catalogued like so many numbers. Why hadn’t he noticed the way Clark chewed before? His jaw was beautiful.

He remembered Clark touching his wound a lifetime ago, and he wanted to press that whole side against him. Of course, it would be too unconventional to move his chair next to Clark right now, after they’ve already sat. That and he felt silly after thinking it. Clark wouldn’t…Bruce waved his fork minutely. He didn’t want to have to explain himself, was the bottom of it.

===

Clark had to admit that he really enjoyed the way Bruce looked at him, watched him calmly and carefully.  He was used to people gawking at him… but the way Bruce looked at him made him feel like he was… beautiful.  Or like Bruce thought he was.

And he noticed now that Bruce’s eyes were actually quite stunning.  He’d noticed before that they were a gorgeous shade of blue… that might have been the first thing that attracted him, matter of fact.  He hardly remembered anymore.  But they were this shade he’d never quite seen anywhere before, and it was hard to concentrate while he was pinned under that gaze.  Not that he was complaining.

Actually, he  _had_  seen that color before.

"You know," he began, tilting his head a tad, "This’ll probably sound like a total line, but that’s not what I’m trying.  But… I’ve just now figured out what your eyes remind me of."

===

"Oh?" Bruce smirked. "I’ve heard a lot of comparisons over the years. What’s yours?"

===

Clark laughed.  ”Well, now I feel stupid for saying anything.”  But he’d gone this far… might as well say it.

He bit his lip and realized he had a bit of a blush as he said, “Well, sometimes you can see the Northern Lights from my Fortress.  And, well… it’s not so much the light itself, because that reflects green from where I usually see it, but the sky around the lights.”  He shrugged.  ”It’s just that I was sorta thinking that I had never seen the color of your eyes anywhere, but… there’s one place.”

And he felt a little silly, saying something like that.  He hoped Bruce didn’t think he was a complete idiot.

===

Heat fluttered across Bruce’s cheeks. He had to look away and chuckle, a quick reflex to banish the flush, but then he couldn’t quite look up again. “That’s — you have a way with words,” he said quietly. The fingers on his free hand twitched towards Clark. His arm remained rooted to its spot.

===

Clark was still red as he looked down.  ”I  _am_  a writer, after all,” he replied quietly.  His hand moved across the table and brushed against Bruce’s fingers.

===

Bruce flinched away from the touch, then he pinched his eyes shut and let the air out of his lungs. Guilt surged through his veins. “Sorry,” he managed quickly.

===

What had he done wrong?  

Clark pulled his hand back as soon as Bruce flinched.  ”No, don’t apologize.   _I’m_  sorry.”

===

Great. That was the exact opposite of what Bruce wanted to hear. But dammit, he didn’t — what was he supposed to say? He couldn’t even think of something because he’d get halfway through the sentence and hate himself even more.

There had to be a way to do this, he thought to himself. There had to be, he could do  _research_  on it or something. Whatever it’d take.

But right now he had a date that was quickly spiraling out of control. “You haven’t told me if you’ve submitted something to the creative piece yet.”

===

Clark cleared his throat.  

So they’d gone from personal stuff and then Clark had tried to be romantic and ruined _everything_.  He sighed.  Such a screw-up. 

"I, um, no," he replied, shaking his head and looking down.  "Not yet, anyways.  I’m working on something.  I actually spent a lot of this afternoon on it."

===

Bruce put on a smile. “Good. Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’re dining in my bedroom, by the way.” Which was new for him, actually. He had first thought of the dining room and then dismissed the idea as quickly as it came for being  _too_  formal. The kitchen had been his next choice, but that wasn’t formal enough, and next was the garden or the patio, and then the thought of his room had come to him. After that it was hard to think of anywhere else.

Memories danced before him as his eyes flicked to the bed momentarily. He needed a new room. He needed to buy new furniture and move into a different bedroom tomorrow, tonight, the next hour.

But this was the only one with a balcony, other than, well, his parents’. But he would never move their stuff. He would never erase the last traces of them left in his life.

Bruce leaned back in his chair. “I found out what happened to Macaria, by the way.”

===

"Can’t imagine there was a happy ending," Clark said, frowning.

===

"Actually it’s not so bad. She’s not dead, so stop worrying about that, but she’s an indentured servant to one of the royal houses. In a hundred years she’ll be put to trial in her home colony, though from what I understand of Amazonian law they will still try her only as a child." He chewed on his food thoughtfully. "They’re…an interesting people."

===

Clark listened thoughtfully and heaved a little sigh of relief to hear that the girl was still alive.  He had wondered.

"Well, that’s a relief," he said.  "And you’re right about that.  They  _are_  interesting.”  He paused to have a bite.  ”That party… I’ve never seen so much food in my life, and I have a mother who spent a week cooking for Thanksgiving.”

===

Bruce snorted. “What could you possibly need a whole week to cook?”

===

"You’d have to ask her," Clark said with a laugh.  "She tries to feed half of Kansas."  

Then he tilted his head.  ”But you probably don’t want to hear about my mom, and I probably don’t want to be the mama’s boy who sits here and talks about her on a da— dinner.”

He cut himself off before saying  _date_.  He needed to be more careful about the words he used.

===

Bruce looked up sharply under his brows. He had heard it, he knew he heard it. He replayed the line again in his head just to be sure.  _Date_. That was the word Clark was going to use before “dinner” won out. 

 _Date_. He was actually kind of glad Clark didn’t call it that. Bruce felt like if he had done so, it would have ruined something. He couldn’t put his finger on what.

"You can talk about your mother," Bruce said. "How did you end up with your parents, anyways?"

===

Clark bit his lip.  He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved that Bruce hadn’t run away from what he had very nearly almost said or disappointed that he didn’t jump in and say, “this is a date, isn’t it?”

Relief won out.

But then he decided that if Bruce was going to allow him to talk about his folks, he may as well.  If Bruce didn’t mind hearing it, he didn’t mind opening up.

"Well, I’ve always thought it was good luck that had me end up with them," Clark said.  "Krypton, the planet I’m from, was dying… and my birth parents sent me here so I’d have a chance.  My parents found me and raised me… and that’s about it, really."

===

"Your birth parents." Bruce frowned. "How much do you know about them, about Krypton? Are you…" He didn’t know how to ask it.

Clark’s hand was too far away right now.

===

Clark nodded and shrugged.  ”It’s okay.  I know all about them… in theory.  I know that I have my mother’s eyes and my father’s smile.  I know that it wasn’t easy for them to send me away, but they had no choice.”  He took a small bite of his dinner.  ”And my father was a scientist… he created ways to educate me about Krypton and about the two of them.  I know that his name was Jor-El and her name was Lara Lor-Van… and I can speak the language, but I’m not exactly fluent… don’t get much practice.  I know a bit about the people.”

He shrugged again.  ”But I wonder about them sometimes… what kind of people they were, and what kind of person  _I’d_  be if I’d gotten to grow up with them… their little Kal-El.”  Then he smiled sadly.  ”But I guess all adopted kids wonder things like that.”

He hesitated before adding, “I… sometimes I think I have a memory of them, of the two of them looking down at me before my rocket left.  But I’m not sure if I really remember it or if I just  _think_  I do, since I know that’s how it was.”

===

The problem was that Bruce understood. Not in the way Clark knew, no, he’d never fool himself into thinking that far. But he could assemble the information in his head and run a simulation in the time that it took him to swallow a forkful of prosciutto and peas, and he understood.

Bruce opened his mouth. Barbara’s voice beat him over the communicator.

"B, we’ve got a problem."

"What happened," Bruce demanded.

"Okay so you know that killer croc everyone’s been talking about? He’s kind of ransacking Duckwood Drive in uptown."

===

Well, this had been rather nice while it lasted.  As soon as he heard the call, he wondered briefly if Barbara wouldn’t be able to handle it.  But he knew Bruce wouldn’t have that… and he felt guilty for even thinking it.

===

Bruce’s nose flared at Barbara’s choice of words. He took his fingers off the comm, standing from the table. “Sorry I can’t stay to finish this.” He laid his fingers across the top of Clark’s hand.

===

"I understand," he said with a nod.  Then, taking a chance, he offered, "If you need any help…"

===

"I’ll call." Bruce smiled, turning to face Clark as he left the room. "But it’s just a man-eating crocodile. How hard could it be?"

===

Clark smiled.  ”You’ve handled worse… quite recently, if memory serves.”

===

Bruce didn’t say anything more. Just one last look over his shoulder, and then he was blasting into his ‘Cave, changing into the armor and hooking the cape over his shoulders. He pulled the cowl over his eyes, grabbed his grappling gun with the double-strength tether, and shot off in the Batmobile.

Somewhere around 5th and Main he decided he wanted to visit Clark in Metropolis, too.

===

Clark wasn’t sure what the protocol was for what you were supposed to do when your date had to leave in the middle of the evening to fight crime.  He’d never been on the receiving end of that.

So he watched Bruce go and then wandered out onto the balcony.  He could go home now and hope to talk to Bruce later, or he could stay nearby in case he was needed.

He sighed as he switched quickly into his uniform.  There were surely things he could be doing around Metropolis, and a couple of things he could be doing at home — not the least of which was working on his story.  He took off and looked down over Gotham as he flew.  He wasn’t sure where Bruce would be… but he wasn’t too worried.  Bruce could handle himself.


	7. Chapter 7

He hopped out of the Batmobile at the first police barricade, two blocks in from the Dunwood Drive shopping mall. Helicopters whipped against the Gotham twilight above, and on the streets people were running. Some were screaming.

"Move!" Batman yelled above the din. Anyone who saw him quickly made room for the Dark Knight to pass. He had two blocks to cover while wearing a full suit of Kevlar and his ribs were already giving him drama. But Barbara was there, Barbara was his responsibility and there might be — most likely were — other innocents, too. His ribs could write a damn rain check. 

Batman leapt through a shattered hole in the front set of once-was glass doors. He followed a trail of broken displays and gnashes in the walls and floors, cuts that had been made with five incredibly powerful claws.

The Dunwood Mall was built on a split level. What started at the first floor became the second as he approached the food court, and Batman didn’t even hesitate to lunge off the balcony with his fists wrapped around his cape.

For some people the world “skipped” when adrenalin was introduced en-force to the blood. For others there were no noticeable chronological abstractions, and yet for others still — for Bruce — everything started moving a bit slower than it should have.

Below him, swinging in slow-motion at Batgirl, was not a giant killer crocodile. It certainly looked like it could have been mistaken for one, with its rough, leathery green hide that shined like it had been polished; its gaping mouth stuck mid-verbalization with set of jaggedly incisors; and its tail, long and agile, that broke a two-inch sapling with one mighty whip.

Batgirl had almost taken that hit. ” _Shit_ ,” she spat, recovering from her dodge on a table nearby. Napkin holders and abandoned food had splattered in her wake.

Batman landed on the “Killer Croc” and bashed its ears with electrified gauntlets. The insulation in his suit kept him relatively protected, but the Croc reared its head back and swiped at Batman.

It had hazel eyes, with twinges of red.

Batman was gone before the claws could connect. He jumped backwards and sprang off his hands to right himself, then dipped left to avoid the clumsy charge. Swinging his legs low to the ground he knocked its feet out from under it, and it fell with a smack that resonated a roar in its chest. Batman didn’t let up. The moment Croc got up was the moment he beat the monster back down, and it happened again and again, until Croc’s eyes started flicking around, looking for exits. Bruce could practically read its mind.

It threw a table at him at the same time Batman shouted, “Grapple!”

Batgirl shot her grappling gun in the time it took Bruce to calculate trajectory and dodge. It was a hooking system designed to pin and release on command, usually in cement or steel. It was not going to be coming out of Killer Croc’s shoulder any time soon.

Batman had his grappled up and shot it a second after it started going after Batgirl, nabbing the other shoulder. They decorated Croc’s body with steel-fiber tether like they were dancing around a maypole, too fast for Croc to do much more than scream and rage and spew its spittle into the air.

"Let go," Batman demanded. Batgirl didn’t question it. He kicked both feet into Croc’s shoulder blades, knocking it forward to its stomach, and with the same motion that he used to flip away he drained the highest amperage from his battery possible.

Croc twitched as the current finished its course. The scent of burned leather mixed with Subway and Panda Express. Then all the muscles relaxed in its body, and Croc was drooling on the floor.

&&&

Barbara did not join his conference with her dad, outside the mall. By the time Croc was hauled away the night had fallen properly around them.

"Just turned up outta the blue," Jim said. "Couldn’t even get our special response team ready in time. Thanks for showin’ up, Batman."

"Always a pleasure to help," Batman spoke plainly. "Any word on preliminary blood reports?"

"Not human, that’s for sure. Full report’s gonna take a few days. And the night’s just getting started, right?"

"These are strange days, Commissioner Gordon. Try not to lose too much sleep."

“ _Sleep_.” Jim laughed once. He lit his pipe. “I bet you don’t even—” But Batman was gone.

&&&

Bruce pushed the cowl off his head as he returned to the ‘Cave for the night. Alfred was already asleep; Barbara had stayed up as late as she could, with work in the morning.

He contemplated the communicator sitting in his ear. He could —  _no_. It was 4 am. If Clark was asleep, Bruce would not be the reason to wake him. And if Clark was awake and hadn’t contacted Bruce, then he would not cling like a freshman boy who ended up with the senior jock.

Bruce logged his reports in silence. He’d sleep in an hour, maybe two. Just listen to the police scanner and work away the toddler hours of the morning, maybe repair the electric gauntlets. They were a one-time use technology for the time being.

Bruce glanced at the date:  _October 1st_.

===

Clark stopped twice on the way home, once to break up a fight between about a dozen teenagers in Suicide Slum.  Four of them had knives, one had a switchblade, and two had guns.  The others were hoping for their best with just their fists and determination.  The second time he stopped was actually just near his apartment building.  An elderly woman (one he actually knew — Mrs. Petrakis, who happened to be his mailman’s mother) had fallen down in the intersection, and it was just his good luck that he was flying by right then.  She suffered from Alzheimer’s related dementia and was often sneaking out of the house.  He helped her up and took her back to her apartment and then took himself home.

Once he was in his apartment, he quickly shed his uniform and made his way over to the shower.  He just stood there under the spray for the longest time, thinking about things — some of which were appropriate to say out loud, but most of them weren’t.

Well, certain needs had probably been neglected a bit too long, he realized.

He collected himself and made his way from the shower to his desk, a towel wrapped around his waist.  With a clear schedule for the rest of the evening, he’d have time to get his piece done.  Hopefully.  Maybe.

&&&

By the time he’d made any progress on his writing, he realized that he had forgotten to put his goodnight call in to Lois — which meant she was probably imaging his evening had gone quite differently than it did.  And he also realized he was bone tired and had work in the morning.

He looked at the time on his phone.  Four in the morning.  Briefly he thought about calling Bruce to see how everything had gone that evening, but there was little point in that.  If Bruce had needed him, he’d have called.  And if he had wanted to talk to him, he’d have called.  

It was too late and that would be too clingy.  After all, it’d only been one da-dinner.  He closed his eyes and tried to deal with the thought that he didn’t know if there’d be another.

He stood up and stretched, dropped his towel on the floor, and drifted over to his bed.  With any luck, he’d have a few good hours rest.

===

"So."

Bruce looked up from his eggs. Alfred stared back at him expectantly.

Bruce grimaced. “I am not telling you about dinner like some gossiping school kid.”

Alfred smiled politely as he swept the newspapers away. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

&&&

Lucius was all too eager to let Bruce go. “You bought it, it’s your responsibility,” he had said. Then he called ahead and informed the appropriate persons while Bruce left on the next flight out. Bruce would be able to be back in Gotham just after sunset.

He still didn’t like Metropolis. He kept his sunglasses over his eyes as he walked into the Daily Planet offices lobby, smiling coyly at the desk.

He had chosen a doubled breasted waistcoat in stark baby blue, with a white dress shirt and red tie. The colors may have been more deliberate than they appeared.

===

"So?" Lois began.

Clark raised an eyebrow.  Play it cool.  ”So what?”

"You didn’t call last night," she said in an accusatory tone.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said.  "I came home and crashed as soon as my head hit the pillow."

Lois narrowed her eyes.  ”Right.”

"It’s true," he replied.

She smiled.  ”I never said it wasn’t.  Interesting that you felt the need to insist, though.”

&&&

Clark had just sat back down at his desk after coming in from interviewing the ADA when Perry came out of his office.  He came up to Lois’s desk in a rush, pulling his jacket on.

"Lois, listen, I just got a call that Wayne is coming in here in a bit," he said.  "An’ I got meetings with four sponsors… I don’t have the time to babysit him.  You did okay with him last time… tell him whatever he wants to hear and get ‘im out of here."

"But Chief —"

Perry walked.  ”But nothing.  Entertain him, and if you can’t get rid of him by the time I get back, _I’ll_  entertain him, as if I had nothin’ better to do.”

Clark looked up and tried not to let Lois catch his eye.  Be cool.  Be casual.   _Breezy_.  This wasn’t going to be a big deal.

===

Bruce had to make a pit stop on the 12th floor just to make it look like he did some work. Of course he actually would later, because the truth was most of it he could do from his laptop, but the excuse of needing to come in was too much to pass.

His next stop was several levels higher.

He remembers the last time he was here, how bad things had been. Now he was wondering if there was a supply closet when he stepped out of the elevator and caught the sight of Clark.

===

Clark saw Bruce walk in and he smiled to himself.  He tried to wipe it away quickly, because they were trying to be private and he was going to be obvious.

Lois regarded Clark with a raised eyebrow and sighed as she got ready to approach Bruce.  ”Hello, Mr. Wayne,” she said professionally.  ”Perry’s out right now so he asked me to take the responsibility.”

===

 _Lois_. That was all Bruce needed to evaluate his emotional state.

"Hi Brucie, did you forget everything already?"

Bruce stopped short of her trajectory. “Miss Lane, how very nice it is to see you.”

===

"Yes," she said with a smile.  "I can just tell how excited you must be."  Then, crossing her arms in a posture that was not  _at all_  designed to intimidate, she asked, “So why are you doing us the extreme honor of dropping in here today?”

===

Bruce cast a sideways glance at Clark. “Checking up on my star reporters, of course. You’re the money makers, I’m the money manager.” He pushed on a grin. “It’s my  _job_  to be here. Managing  _you_.”

===

Lois raised an eyebrow.  She could have sworn she saw Bruce look in Clark’s direction.  So she very deliberately turned and looked at him, making quite sure Bruce caught it, and judging by the fact that her partner looked slightly red and slightly guilty, she knew she was right.

 _Mhmm_.

"Yes, I’m sure," she said dryly.  "I’m familiar with your trademark dedication."  Then, forcing a smile, she said, "Now, as I said, Perry is indisposed… so for now, imagine I’m him.  What can I help you with?"

===

Bruce blinked. “Well I hardly think that’s appropriate, seeing as how I mostly came here to talk to him about you.”

===

"About  _me_?” she demanded.  She furrowed her brows and put her hands on her hips.  But she was not going to let some man intimidate her.  Some ass who took her on a few dates and rudely left her outside an aquarium smelling like Shamu’s girlfriend.  

And she wasn’t going to make a scene.  That would be just what he wanted.

She glanced at Clark and saw that he was purposely looking away.

"If there’s some trouble with my work you can tell me," she said coolly.  "Right now, to my face.  I don’t need Perry to defend me."

===

Sighing, Bruce stuck the tips of his hands in his pockets and lounged against the empty desk behind him. He cleared the air in his lungs and rocked once, ever so slightly, before settling back into a languid position.

"Alright. Well first let’s start with your abstract, it’s too, well,  _abstract_. The purpose of an abstract is to garner the reader’s attention while summarizing the article, not to make a grandiose handwaving gesture in the general direction of your thesis.

"You also tend to forget your audience halfway through. You start writing as if your demographic is thirty-five to forty-five, but then use a line roughly only experienced between those in the eighteen to twenty-six range. Confusing, to say the least, and hardly professional.

"Your syntax needs work. There’s only so much Perry can catch, and I suppose over the years he may have gotten used to your style enough to miss more and more of your mistakes. Your most recent articles have needed twice as much revision as everyone else’s.

"And finally — and this is a big kicker for me — your citations." He tilted his head down. " _Write them_.”

===

Lois stood there in complete and utter shock, mouth agape.  She was having enough thoughts race through her mind that she couldn’t latch onto one and send it to her mouth to speak.  

_How dare you insult —_

_And I suppose you have so much journalistic experience —_

_Well, maybe that’s all true, but you sir, are an ass —_

_There is such a thing as a personal style, and mine is too sophist—_

_Dammit, he knows his stuff._

"Well," she finally began, realizing that the room had grown quite silent around the two of them, "I grant you that I have gotten sloppy about my citations… but as for the rest of that  _rant_ , I can only assume it was  _designed_  to offend me.  And as for that crack about Perry being  _used_  to me…”  Her nostrils flared.

And across the room, Clark was as tense as he could remember being in… days.  He worried his bottom lip as he watched what was sure to only get worse before it got better… and he wasn’t in the position to stop it, because that would surely look questionable.

===

"Perry is used to you. Trust me, you take getting used to."

Bruce let a smirk on his lips. He couldn’t help but glance at Clark again to see his reaction. He was actually kind of proud of what he said, proud of finally being able to swat Lois’ over-inflated personality. She had been grinding him down since the moment they met.

But of course he had just made an enemy of Clark’s best friend, so he shouldn’t have been surprised by the tension he saw.

Bruce considered the possibility of having made a terrible mistake.


	8. Chapter 8

"Well!" she huffed.  "You’ve been sitting on that for a while, I imagine."  Then, lowering her voice as if there was any chance of keeping any of this private, "But I’ll tell you one thing,  _Mr._  Wayne.  You can just stand there and keep on looking  _proud_  of yourself, but the only reason you’re saying any of this is because you’re pissed off that I didn’t buy into your particular brand of BS like all the other idiots throwing themselves at you.”  She cast a pointed glance at Clark and he frowned deeply.

For a parting shot, because she had to have one, she very calmly said, “But you wouldn’t have gotten your feelings hurt if you’d been man enough to stay on my level.”

===

He could  _ruin_  her in the time it took to take a piss. He could empty her accounts and disable her phone, could terminate her employment at the snap of a finger.

 _But that would mean lowering my standards_ , he wanted to say. What came out instead was, ” _Mr. Bruce Thomas Wayne_ , CEO of Wayne Enterprises and all branching companies.” The words came out slow and dark. “I suggest you remember who you’re talking to,  _Miss_ Lane. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve a few other reporters to talk to as well, seeing as how Perry himself is indisposed.”

Bruce pushed himself off the desk and easily wandered over to Clark’s desk, his expression changing in less than half a second. “Mr. Kent, perhaps we should take this to the conference room so we don’t repeat Miss Lane’s mistake.”

===

Clark glanced over to Lois, who was still standing rooted to the exact spot Bruce had left her.  Her arms were crossed defensively over her chest and her cheeks were red, though not in the way that Clark’s were.  She was  _angry_ , not just mad or offended… and there was no way this was going to be anywhere near the end of this.

Clark glanced up at Bruce and tried to clear his face of whatever betraying emotions would be evident there.  ”Sure thing,  _sir,_ " he said politely, standing up to follow Bruce.

===

Bruce lead the way past a pair of quickly averted eyes, holding the door for Clark as he swept into the conference room. He clicked the door shut behind them and was glad that the curtains had already been drawn.

"I probably shouldn’t have done that," he said, hand still on the doorknob. His heart felt like it was beating lopsided as he looked to Clark, not quite getting his head high enough to meet Clark’s eyes.

===

“ _No_ … you probably shouldn’t have,” Clark said, trying to sound serious.  He actually did kind of want to be upset, because he felt he  _should_  be, but now that they were in private, he couldn’t help feeling… idiotically happy.

"You were a little hard on her," he went on.  "Not that she didn’t kinda deserve it.  But I’m never going to hear the end of this, you know."

===

A warm and delicious smirk played across Bruce’s lips. He let go of the door and stepped into Clark’s space, running his hands along Clark’s arms. “Too bad she’s not the one with x-ray vision. I’d love to hear what she thought of this.” 

===

"You’re terrible," Clark said with a smile.   "But… we have to be careful," he continued, wrinkling his nose.  "She’s suspicious… she’s been suspicious since before there was anything to be suspicious about."

===

"I know how to take care of suspicious people, Clark." He leaned forward and crushed their chests together. Leaning forward was good, leaning forward was  _great_. He wished he had done it sooner.

"Are you going to take advantage of me. Mr. Kent, or are we actually going to discuss your work? I think I only had enough in me to criticize hers."

===

"Well, I was hoping that you weren’t planning to bring me in here without giving me anything to get me through the rest of my day," Clark said, smiling wickedly, loving every single moment and every single centimeter of this closeness.

He leaned in even further, enough to press a kiss to Bruce’s lips.

===

Bruce closed his eyes and tore at Clark hungrily. He couldn’t think of an argument not to. He had imagined it the whole ride over, had managed to think of so little else other than memories of this, of what he was finally getting a hold of again.

One hand slid up Clark’s arm and to the back of his neck, pushing up through the hair there. The other swam around Clark’s waist and held itself on the small of his back.

He felt redundant for asking, but how had he lived without this? It was a euphoria unlike anything he had experienced in a long, long time.

===

Clark wanted to lock that door, seal it with his heat vision, and keep the world out forever.  Because this was perfect.  It didn’t matter for a minute that this was a little inappropriate and a little risky…

That actually made it even better.

His hands looped around Bruce’s back and rubbed the taut muscles the clothes could never hide.  He pressed his hips against Bruce because he didn’t feel him backing away.  He felt himself wondering how far things could go in this room… if they could be just quiet enough…

But before he could wonder much of anything, he heard a whirl of sound that was being smothered by the sounds of their kissing and breathing.  But no… that was irresponsible, not paying attention.  He forced himself to focus, didn’t break away from Bruce, but really listened.

_…when Clark comes out of the conference room there.  I should actually go check if he’s okay in there with that jackass…_

That was Lois’s voice, and she was talking to… someone.  And coming this way.

Clark broke off of Bruce.  ”Jesus fuck,” he whispered urgently.  ”Lois is outside the door.”

===

Bruce snarled when Clark broke away. He was going to  _murder_  that woman, he swore. Half hard in his pants and still growing despite the situation, he refused to let go of Clark, absolutely  _refused_. He played images of Clark busting them out of the building and hauling him off to his place, then fucking his brains out on the mattress all goddamn day long. But Lois was right outside the door, and though he thought he made his threat clear as the mountain sky, he wouldn’t put it past Lois Fucking Lane to come bursting in.

He needed to think of something. Without missing a beat, his mind took him back to Kasnia. “You have an interesting style, Mr. Kent,” he said conversationally, pulling away to take his seat at the head of the table. “It’s a bit informal for investigative reporting, however. We’ll have to work on your diction.”

Bruce flexed his thighs to get blood flowing elsewhere. His face he would cool down with sheer willpower.

And then it hit him.

“ _Jesus Fuck_?” he whispered incredulously, tilting his head at Clark. His light smile turned into a devilish grin as he imagined it played out in  _other_  scenes. Why was it even possible to be so turned on and so aggravated at the same time?

===

He hadn’t meant to say that.  Clark bit his lip and looked down as he slid into his chair, a respectful distance from Bruce.  They were both in a sorry state, pants embarrassingly tight and faces unfortunately red, as they tried not to look like they were doing exactly what they were doing.

He had been about to say  _I’m glad you like my style_ , but that seemed like the kind of remark that would make this situation worse.  Instead he said, “Yes, I’m willing to work on that,” trying to sound professional.  And it was damn…  _difficult_  to sound professional right now.

Lois opened the door before they could say anything more.  ”Excuse me, Mr. Wayne, but I need Clark out here for a moment.  It’s… important.”

Clark had never tried so hard to hide what he was feeling in his life.

===

Beaming with a cool confident air of professionalism, Bruce said, “Oh really, Miss Lane? And how important could it be?” 

===

"Very," Lois replied, chin tilted defiantly.  "There’s someone here from marketing and he needs to speak to you specifically, Clark."

Clark raised an eyebrow.  ”Why would someone from…” But his voice trailed off as his mouth fell open just slightly.   _Hayden_  was from marketing.  Lois was trying to prove a point to Bruce, and she was going to use Hayden to do it.

He looked down at his hands, which were folded on the table in front of him, and wondered if there was some way he could silently communicate to Bruce without looking at him that he’d give _anything_  if he could make this go away.  Clark was too nervous to look up because he didn’t trust his face right now… and he didn’t know what reaction any of this would get from Bruce.

But, thanks to his  _best friend_ , he was about to find out.

===

Bruce looked from Clark to Lois and back again. He narrowed his eyes. “Of course. We were just about done anyways. I’ll send the rest of my critique through Perry.” He waved his hand in dismissal.

===

Clark offered a very tentative smile.  ”Thank you.”  He got up and followed Lois out of the conference room, whispering, “You are transparent, Lane.”

She smirked as she gestured with one hand to Hayden.  Then she said, “And I’d love to sit and talk shop with the two of you, but I promised Cat I would go over her latest column for her.  You know, make sure it’s up to our paper’s gold star standard.”  She offered a smile and sashayed off.

Hayden looked at Clark and gave a soft smile.  ”Long time no see… or talk… or anything.”

Clark sighed.  ”Yeah… sorry about that, by the way.”

The blond man shook his head.  ”It’s fine.  I mean, I did sort of think you were going to call…”

"I didn’t mean to make you expect…" Clark’s voice trailed off and he shrugged.

"It really is fine," Hayden said, smiling.  "I’m only here because Lois said you’d been asking about me, and…"

Clark’s eyes popped open a bit wider.  ”Oh, no… she shouldn’t have told you that.”

"You don’t need to be embarrassed," Hayden began.

"No," Clark said in a sigh.  "She shouldn’t have said it because it isn’t true.  I’m sorry she said… _whatever_  she said to you… but she’s got her own agenda, and I’m sorry to say she’s using you.”

Hayden nodded.  ”I guess I should have expected that.  But I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t wanted to believe it…  and you know, you’re really special, Clark.  You shouldn’t make things so difficult for yourself… not forever.”

"Things are different now," Clark said softly.  "You should know that right now.  They’re  _really_ different.”

Hayden shrugged.  ”Yeah.  But… I meant when I said you were special.  I think you’re special, and I have since  _way_  before Lois Lane offered to introduce us,”  He came a step closer.  ”If things are ever…  _different_  from how they are now… you’ve got my number.”

Clark managed a weak nod.  Hayden walked away, and Clark really did feel bad.  He was a nice guy and he obviously liked him… but as he had told himself once before, Hayden wasn’t Bruce… and that was what mattered.

And if he knew Bruce, he imagined he might owe him an explanation for all of that… if he hadn’t gotten his feelings hurt and withdrawn yet again.

===

When there was something Bruce wanted to know, he made it his business to know. It was as simple at that. There were very few exceptions, most of which pertained to Alfred and his 30+ years of loyalty to the Wayne family, but even then, the exceptions were small.

This did not fall under an exceptions. This was a guy from Marketing, a guy Bruce had probably seen not twenty minutes ago, and if it had to do with business Bruce needed to know. Information was his weapon. Every little bit counted.

Bruce closed his eyes and focused on the pair of voices a little ways outside the door. 

"Long time no see… or talk… or anything," Mr. Marketing said. Bruce felt a poisonous grip on his mind.

And Clark was pausing — to sigh by the sound of it — before he replied with, “Yeah… sorry about tha—” The printer whirred to life and drowned out the rest.

 _No_. That was not business, this was not happening. Bruce tapped through the functions on his phone, accessed Clark’s device. It was a simple and silent matter to bypass wireless security, activate the microphone and send all received sounds to Bruce’s end. He had a program running that translated words into text. He’d find out what was going on, knew instantly that this must have been the  _Hayden_  he saw written with numbers the last time he was here.

Of course, by the time he got everything running, he couldn’t help but think he could have missed a large portion of something important. And the printer was still going — how many pages did the average article even go for, really? — which made the translation wonky at best.

 _no, year really special Clark you shunt make things so difficult for yourself_ , the screen printed out. After a slight break it added,  _not forever_. It corrected “four ever” to “forever” as it typed.

He should have turned his phone off. He should have severed the ties and walked away and pretended it never happened. Because how many people had  _he_  slept with? How would Clark feel if he heard Bruce’s number? If Bruce didn’t want to deal with Clark’s reaction to that, he wouldn’t except Clark to deal with his reaction to  _this_.

But there was something off. Nonsense words were cropping up as the printer finished its work, and then Bruce could hear Clark saying something too soft for his ears. All his phone picked up was  _really different_  near the end.

”Yeah.  But… I meant when I said you were special.  I think you’re special, and I have since  _way_  before Lois Lane offered to introduce us,” Hayden said. Bruce had to read what came next:  _If things are ever_ _different from how they are now_  — the typing paused — _you’ve got my number._

It was cold but it was hot, the thing that twisted in his chest. Bruce calmly and quietly severed his connection to Clark’s phone, then he browsed a hidden soundboard as he collected himself, selecting his emergency excuse to leave.

His phone rang once, a simple prepackaged tone, before he picked it up. “Lucius?” he asked, standing.

"Hey, Bruce, I know you’re busy but something’s come up with Wayne Aerospace. I need you at the east offices ASAP, I can explain on the way."

"Of course." Bruce went out of the room and made a beeline to the elevator. "Hang on, I have to catch a flight. How bad is it?"

"Pretty bad. If we don’t get someone who major authority in there soon there’s no telling what’ll start happening."

Bruce looked up at Clark one last time. He wanted to smile, but he couldn’t. The elevator doors closed on him.

===

Clark looked up in time to see Bruce leaving.  Leaving the office, and in all likelihood, leaving _him_.  

He sat down behind his desk again and crumpled a sheet of paper with nothing important written on it.  He could  _kill_  Lois.  He turned his attention back to his computer screen because he had to do something right now, do something to stop himself from thinking about how this day had bounced from normal to bad to  _perfect_  to terrible, all in such a short amount of time.  But his fingers were like lead and would not pass over the keys, not even to type gibberish.

He looked up to see Lois approaching and set his face in a frown.

"How did your meeting with Hayden go?" she asked with an innocent smile.

Clark deliberately kept from looking at her as he said, “You have got to stop putting me on the spot like that. We’ve had this conversation before.”

"Mhm," she said with a shrug and nod. "Didn’t answer my question.  How did it go?"

Clark finally looked at her, with a sigh.  He couldn’t believe they were having this conversation… and that she was proud of herself right now.  ”It was really awkward.  As you might expect.”

"That Hayden is so nice and attractive," she said.  "I’ve always seen you with someone like that… sweet and passive and blond."

"You’re in rare form today," he huffed.  "First you insult our new owner —"

She gasped.  ” _I_  insulted  _him_?  Did you hear what he said to me?”

Clark sighed.  ”I heard you provoke him into being unkind to you and I heard you refuse to let it go.”

"I’m your best friend but you’re taking his side," she huffed.  "Unbelievable."

He hesitated.  He had no intentions of taking sides.  She was his friend, and Bruce was his… well, hopefully he was still  _his_.  ”I’m not taking sides in an immature pissing contest,” he finally said.

He knew she meant well, deep down.  And he knew that she had only argued with Bruce on principle… she didn’t believe in backing down… but neither did Bruce.  Clark sighed at the thought that he must just be drawn to obstinate people.

After some moments, the elevator door opened, and Clark’s head snapped up as he hoped to see Bruce coming back.  But he gave a little disappointed frown when he saw it was Perry.

He walked toward his office, but he slowed down as he passed near Lois’s desk.  ”I had to come back for some papers,” he said.  Glancing around the newsroom, and especially at the tension between Lois and Clark, he asked, “Awright, what gives?  And where’s Wayne?”


	9. Chapter 9

Bruce walked out of the Daily Planet headquarters, donned his sunglasses, and walked. He didn’t know where he was going. Well, no, he  _knew_  where he was going. He knew the streets, he knew the shops. By name, at least, though only by name. He didn’t know them the way he knew Gotham.

He stopped at the corner, waiting for the stoplight. Bruce could write a novel about Gotham. Could write a series, really. He could talk about the streets and the people, the underground city of homeless the mayor pointedly refused to recognize. He could talk about the gangs and their neverending war for control, he could talk about Arkham and all of its inmates. And hundreds of other people, too. Mercenaries, assassins, hitmen, and of course the seemingly innocent shop owners that tended to take bribes for underhanded deals and services.

Most of what he knew would never be published in a travel book, not outside of the one paragraph warning tourists about the crime rate and how to hide their money. But the secret was to never have anything worth taking because in Gotham, if someone wanted it, they would get it — or die trying.

Bruce snorted. He knew about the popular dump sites, too.

He stepped off the curb and mind wandered off after that. At one point he was in the park, just cutting through the far corner to get around faster. He almost took the train.

The crowds dimmed with the afternoon light as he went on. The air was still warm, still clinging to summer as it slipped away, but the breeze was cool. The nights fell as low as 60 now. The trees had just started changing color.

He wondered if Metropolis had the same problem with Halloween as Gotham, and if so, whether or not the cities really were that different. Maybe he could learn. He wanted to, so why couldn’t he?

Bruce stopped and read the address to himself: 344 Clinton Street. He had a key in his pocket that would open the lobby door as well as the apartment within. He had traced it and made a copy ages ago. A fortnight ago.

He took the fire escape to his favorite staircase window. The best thing about anyplace as large as a city was that so long as you looked like you knew what you were doing, no one would question you.

===

Things were a bit chilly between Lane and Kent for the rest of the afternoon.  Clark found himself wanting to apologize, but he told himself that he shouldn’t — he was in the right here.  He was the one that had been put in the middle of a squabble that really had nothing to do with him, put on the spot, and had the guy he was sort of involved with make out with him and then leave without so much as an “I’ll call you.”  

He ended up leaving work early because he had to take of downed power line over on Hob’s Bay.  There was still a bit of time left in the work day… he could have gone back to the office, but… not today.

Instead he flew home, landing on the balcony.  By that time, he’d realized he wasn’t alone.  He smiled to himself…  _maybe_  things would be okay.

===

"And no one has seen Superman landing on this balcony. Repeatedly. Ever." Bruce sipped at the coffee in his hands. There was still half a pot left.

===

"For all anyone knows Superman is dating Clark Kent," he said with a smile.  He made his way over to the kitchen and poured himself a cup of coffee, which he took with him into the bedroom.  He came back moments later, barefoot and in jeans and an Aerosmith t-shirt.

"So, while you were eavesdropping, how much did you hear?"  Clark asked.  "Because we may as well start with filling in the blanks."

===

Bruce blinked at that. He hadn’t expected Clark to be so upfront. It was nice, but it also knocked Bruce off point. That was kind of nice, too.

"Hayden from Marketing seems nice," he said calmly.

===

Clark nodded and took a sip of his coffee.  ”Oh, he is.  If you go for that sort of thing.”

===

"Mm. And you…don’t."

===

He smiled.  ”That’s a silly question.”

===

Bruce shrunk his eyelids. “Your attitude about this isn’t particularly comforting. Is what we’re doing ‘silly,’ too?”

===

"That’s not what I meant," Clark said.  "Not at all."  He tilted his head.  "I’m happy with… what we’re doing.   _Really_  happy.”

===

Bruce searched back and forth between Clark’s eyes. Then he lowered his gaze and it traveled slowly to his cup, his thumb rubbing a new dent in the side. With his toes he pushed the chair opposite to him out, inviting Clark to sit.

===

Clark went and sat down.  He watched Bruce a moment before he said, “Look, I don’t know what all you heard or what you might want to know, but if you have questions, now would be a good time to ask.”

===

All Bruce did was give an acknowledging huff. He swallowed down another mouthful of coffee, the last in his cup, and set it aside. “It occurred to me that we never…defined, what we’re doing.”

===

Clark raised an eyebrow.  ”No, we didn’t.”

===

"I would like to offer one." Bruce opened his hand vertically. "That is, if you’re willing to hear it."

===

Clark took a deep breath and nodded.  ”Please.  Go ahead.”

===

Bruce mimicked Clark’s nod. “One, we limit our visits to two twice per week. We both have extended lives, and it would be best not to burden our other responsibilities with this.”

===

Clark furrowed his brows.  ”When you said you were going to offer a definition I didn’t think it would go this far down such a steep hill so fast.”  He realized he was leaning forward in his chair so he straightened up and sat back.  ”If you think this is going to be a burden… I don’t want you to add me to the list of things you’re responsible to check up on every once in a while.”

===

"Clark, look at this logically. We both spend a significant amount of time going where we’re needed, when we’re needed, whenever that is. I have data, I have statistics. I cannot account for emergencies, but I can choose days ahead of time with the least amount of probability to worry about." He swallowed. "And I have Barbara. I can train her more on the off days, so she’s better prepared for the time when I’m with you."

===

Clark refused to look at Bruce right now.  Because sure, it made sense, but he still didn’t like feeling like Bruce was doing him some grand favor by making room in his schedule to see him.  

But he decided to hear him out.  It was only fair.

"That was number one," Clark said, studying a couple of granules of sugar that had stuck to the rim of his coffee cup.  "I assume there’s more."

===

Bruce watched Clark’s face. That wasn’t the reaction he had intended to garner. Again, his words were failing him. He just hoped that he hadn’t ruined his chances for the second condition.

"Two: we would be exclusive. With each other."

===

At that, Clark looked up.  The conversation with Hayden must have really shaken Bruce.

"That was a given for me," he said.

===

Bruce’s eyes scrunched momentarily, concern and distress flinching them. “‘Was.’ I…” He gulped and steadied his breath. “…take it this means you don’t agree with my definition.”

===

Clark’s eyes widened.  ”No!”  Then, offering a half smile,  ”I mean,  _yes_.  I mean that I do agree with that definition.”  He gulped.  ”It  _is_  a given.  I don’t want anyone else.”

===

He watched Clark wearily for a moment, then all the tension left his shoulders and Bruce visibly relaxed in his seat. “Good,” he said. He cautiously stretched his arms towards Clark, partially crossing the table.

===

Clark let out a little sigh as he saw Bruce relax.  He looked down at Bruce’s arms and got a little smile on his face as he inched his hands closer and situated them between Bruce’s hands.  

"Go on," he said softly, stroking the sides of Bruce’s hands with his pinkies.

===

Bruce smiled warmly. For a moment, he thought he had lost this. “Hayden was right,” he began, sliding his fingers across the warm skin. He wrapped Clark’s hands in his own and brought his knuckles up for a ghostly kiss. “You are special.”

===

Clark smiled.  With Bruce holding his hands and smiling at him and  _everything_ , it was perfect.  This was perfect, Bruce was perfect, and he didn’t even care that he’d been abusing that word lately… it was the only one that fit.

He felt himself starting to blush a little bit.  ”Stay.  At least for a while.”

===

Bruce languidly raised his eyes to meet Clark’s. A smirk crawled across his lips. “You have me until the evening, Mr. Kent,” he spoke fluidly, standing from his chair and taking the two steps between him and Clark. Then he half-sat on the table with only one leg hooked up, leaning over to trace Clark’s lips with his own. “What are you going to do with me?” he whispered.

===

"Everything," Clark breathed against Bruce’s lips.  He put one hand on Bruce’s knee while the other hand searched for Bruce’s… he didn’t want to let go.  He pressed their lips together now, no teasing or suggesting.

===

It was only the grace of years of training and control that kept Bruce from downright falling into Clark’s lap. He glid off the table and straddled with his knees, already grinding, already pressing for any sort of friction he could find. His mind was racing six miles ahead of him and yet it couldn’t get out of the moment. It was stuck on Clark —  _he_  was stuck on Clark. His right hand pinned Clark to his face, leaving only enough slack for the occasional gasp between kisses, and his left was at the seam of pants and shirt, slipping under and finding warm, lush skin to explore. God he felt so good,  _God_  Bruce had wanted this too long to let it slip away again.

He plucked both of the communicators from their ears. “ _Us_ ,” he breathed, as if that explained everything, explained why he wanted to know what Clark’s favorite music was, explained why he wanted to taste a dinner that took all week to cook.

===

"Mhm," he hummed in agreement, pulling Bruce back to him and brushing a kiss along his jaw.  "You and me… it’s all."   _All I want, all I need, all that matters_ … he didn’t think he needed to say anything else.

He brought their lips back together and slid his hands down Bruce’s back.  He longed to know what it felt like when their bodies pressed together like this without clothes to get in the way, longed to know what those taut muscles felt like under his hands, and to memorize each of the little scars he had noticed before, to follow them like a road map.

He tugged on the bottom of Bruce’s shirt to untuck it from his pants and slid his hands around the small of his back.  He pushed his hips up slightly because that grinding felt  _so_  good.  This was all so good.

===

Bruce groaned into Clark’s throat. He was going to come in the chair at this rate. He’d never done this before, never been so turned on that he couldn’t make it to the bedroom.

He wanted it.

Clothes needed to come off immediately. Clark’s shirt was fastest, and Bruce was pushing it up Clark’s body, using his hands along Clark’s skin to do so. His thumbs trailed across each nipple as he pulled back to let Clark get it above his head.

===

Clark could hardly concentrate at this point.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before, like his body just needed one specific person.  Just thinking about it, anticipating it, had him a starting to leak a bit.

He pulled the shirt off and flung it on the floor beside them.  He then began to work the buttons on Bruce’s shirt so he could pull it off.  Kissing a collarbone and trying (unsuccessfully) to stifle a little moan, he managed, “Right here and right now.”

===

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bruce gusted, leaning back and letting his eyes roll with the heat that came from Clark’s words. It was like he read Bruce’s mind, and that made the tension in his groin almost painful.

Bruce pushed past Clark’s hands to get at his buttons. He could do one in each hand, easily whisking through both his waistcoat and button-down in seconds, then tossing them wherever that was away from them.

Clark was beautiful. Every one of his scars was suddenly naked for the eye to see, and all he could think about was how beautiful Clark was in comparison.

He moved Clark’s hands to his back, wanting Clark to touch and feel every one of them while he kissed Clark, passionate and deep, telling him everything his voice could not.

===

Clark looked into Bruce’s eyes and he felt like Bruce was reading his mind, learning about everything he needed through every touch and every kiss, because now all he wanted was to hold and touch and feel… to know that body and its every secret. To know which spots to rub and which ones to kiss and which ones to lick to make Bruce writhe in his arms, to get him crying out.

Clark’s fingers traced the scars on his back, some of which were raised and some of which were flat and smooth.  But they were all him, and they were all beautiful. “So beautiful,” he breathed.

Instinctively, his hips began thrusting up a little, and he could feel the outline of Bruce’s cock in his pants.  He moaned into Bruce’s mouth.  This was just too much, too good.

His hand moved to Bruce’s zipper, but before he pulled it down, he allowed his hand one caress.

===

 _Beautiful_. He had been called gorgeous, stunning, stud, and a hundred thousand other stuttered variations. But Clark’s “beautiful” was the one that stuck itself to Bruce’s mind and wouldn’t let go.

Bruce instantly arced into his touch. “Jesus  _fuck_ ,” he spat, stealing Clark’s line from the scenes in his head. He bit into Clark’s neck as he went for his belt and then to Clark’s jeans, flying through all the motions like he was the superman. “Yer’ _slow_ ,” was his growled excuse to Clark.

===

"Maybe I wanted to take my time with you," he practically cooed in Bruce’s ear.  "But you’re right… enough slow."

One swift motion had them out of the chair and Bruce on the table.  Clark let his jeans fall down around his ankles and kissed again at Bruce’s collarbone and licked a trail down to his nipple.  He was careful always of not putting pressure on his injured side as his hands gently glided over skin — gorgeous, scarred, beautiful skin.  he stepped out of his jeans and kicked them aside as he pulled Bruce’s pants off.

===

For a quarter of a second Bruce panicked —  _what was happening, were they flying off_? — but by the time he finished his startled gasp he had caught up with reality and was smiling, gasping again at the touch of tongue on his nipples. He was always told how odd it was for a man to have such sensitive nipples, though by comparison, he had met far more women who were much more sensitive.

 _Not now_ , he told himself. When his pants were off he grabbed Clark with both hands and legs, all but tossing Clark on top of him as he fell back on the table. It lurched with the motion, and Bruce grinned against Clark’s lips.

He started rolling his hips, running his slickening cock against Clark’s, loving the sensation, loving the exhilaration that came with thoughts of  _finally, finally, finally_. Finally he was getting this, finally he was getting Clark. Finally everything was  _right_.

"Clark," he moaned, low in his throat. He grabbed at Clark’s hair, let his head hit the table under him as he closed his eyes. "Clark, Clark,  _fuck_.”

===

He had giggled, actually giggled when Bruce pulled him down onto him.  And now they were pressed together, and the feeling of so much skin-on-skin contact was fucking fantastic.  He had goosebumps and he felt like he’d stuck his finger in a light socket, there was so much electricity.

He wanted to kiss and bite and lick every inch of him.

This felt so right, like it had never felt with anyone else before.  His body was practically tingling now, and he had to seize Bruce’s mouth again with a hard kiss.

But ohmygod, the feeling of his cock sliding against Bruce’s was so good.  ”Oh, God, fuck  _yes_ , Bruce,” he moaned.  He reached between them and wrapped his hand around both of their lengths and jerked, because he didn’t know how much longer he was going to last… but he knew that felt  _really_  good.

===

"Oh," Bruce said when he felt Clark’s hand. Then, "Oh, oh,  _fuck—_ " He clawed at Clark’s back, wrapped his legs around Clark’s torso, forced every available inch of his skin to get closer,  _closer_  to Clark, gasping and shuddering and even though his eyes were open he could see nothing, could think nothing, couldn’t do anything but let his orgasm spill and crash, to squeeze and release in the most spectacular splatter of stars in his temples and white heat on his stomach.

“ _Claaark_."

===

He could feel Bruce getting close and felt him release, his muscles tensing and relaxing, his body plastered to Clark’s.  The sound of his voice and the feeling of his body edging closer all went straight to Clark’s cock and had him coming moments after, spilling between the two of them.  His eyes closed tight and his mouth fell open into an almost perfect little O.

"GodyesBruce, fuck," he moaned.

He gave Bruce a softer kiss now, and gently ran his hand down the length of his cock.  Next time they’d make it to bed and he’d make it inside Bruce and he’d take his time.  But this had been wonderful, every second of it.  And he was so grateful that it had happened.


	10. Chapter 10

Bruce hummed into the kiss. He had to push Clark’s head away so he could breathe, though, pushing it down against his shoulder and cradling it there with his arm. Hot gusts of air went in and out of him in panting breaths. Every limb attached to his torso was weak and heavy.

It had been far too long a time since he has come like that.

Bruce rocked his head against Clark’s. He started walking the path of Clark’s shoulder blade with his free hand just as his eyes lazily blinked at what he could see. Clark was gorgeous. There wasn’t a single bit of wasted skin on him. All Bruce wanted to do was lie there and smile forever, but then he remembered he was on a table and had two different species of semen mixing on his abdomen.

"Up," he said placidly, faintly pushing against Clark.

===

Clark smiled and rolled off of Bruce, onto his back on the table beside him, realizing he’d probably pinned Bruce down long enough.  He took  a moment to catch his breath again before he sat up, kissing Bruce’s shoulder before he moved.  But his legs still felt unsteady and his body was heavy and lazy.  Sleep would be good now, or maybe pizza… or more sex.  Or all three, in the perfect world.

He looked at Bruce and smiled softly.  ”I’ll let you have the first shower.” 

===

Bruce made an unintelligible noise in his throat. “Yeah you will.” He had to catch some of the semen as he sat up so it wouldn’t get on his clothes, then he padded off to the bathroom. He glanced around inside to see if anything changed since the last time he was in here.

He turned the hot water to full blast and stepped into the spray.

Bruce kept his hair dry. He rinsed off the front and turned his back to the torrent, eyes closed, mind wandering. He started going over all the mental lists he had made. Some items were crossed off, some were revised.

The communicators needed an upgrade to have both private and public channels; that was going to be hard to work in. Nanotech was always a bitch to work with. He needed hairthin tools and a magnifying glass, and hours of painstakingly slow, uninterrupted work. Bruce braced his hand against the wall. He felt exhausted just thinking about it.

It was probably time for him to go back out, he thought. Eventually he did, wearing Clark’s robe to boot. He started picking up his clothes from the floor. He wanted to be alone and he wanted to work, and he hated himself for wanting those things as if Clark was something he could easily forget. Because he knew what he  _should_  have wanted was to stay.

===

Clark watched Bruce go, silently and appreciatively.  He laid back on the table and sighed, smiling as he put a hand on his forehead.  But he only allowed himself a couple of minute like that, though.  Because now that Bruce was gone from beside him, he had to wonder if things would be different when he came back.

He got up and picked up his clothes and slung them over the back of a chair.  He noticed that their coffee cups, which had been quite forgotten in their haste, were on the floor now, the rest of the contents spilled on the floor under the dining table.  He smiled and shook his head as he used a couple of paper towels to mop that up and set the mugs in the sink.

And then he wasn’t sure what to do.  He’d never had sex with someone on his dining table before, so this was another area in which he didn’t quite know the protocol.  He settled for washing the table top, because that seemed like a sensible course of action.

By the time he was done with that, he saw Bruce come back in the room.  He wanted to tell him he looked cute in that robe, but he didn’t imagine Bruce would appreciate that.  Instead he said, “Hope you didn’t use all the hot water.”

===

"I’m not buying a Superman shirt." Bruce folded his shirts and pants neatly on the tabletop. "Go take your shower. I’ve still got an hour or so."

===

Clark gave him a cheeky smile.  ”Anyone could get a Superman shirt… not everyone can say that they got what  _you_  were just wearing.”

He walked past Bruce and into the bathroom, idly touching the now mostly dry and sticky come streaked across his stomach.  He didn’t linger in the shower… didn’t even take time to think much.  Just washed up and got out, partly because he was curious if Bruce would really stay for a whole other hour… and if it would be… nice.  Because it could be nice to sit together and talk… or just quietly enjoy each other’s company.

He just wasn’t ready to give him up yet.

He made his way back into the kitchen with a towel slung low around his waist.  He pulled his jeans back on, forgetting the boxers that had gotten rather wet while they were grinding on each other.

===

Bruce wasn’t in the kitchen. He didn’t think about it until he saw the bedroom door, but he was tired. He was  _really_  tired. And Clark’s bedroom was darker than the rest of the apartment, looked warm and cozy and inviting. Bruce just walked in and put himself under the covers. Everything around him smelled like Clark. The only thing he could wish for was heavier blankets.

He heard Clark come out of the shower and waited until he was found.  _This_  was what was really right, somehow his mind reasoned for him. Or maybe it was just too tired to keep protesting otherwise.

===

Clark looked around and saw the bedroom door was ajar.  He smiled to himself and slipped quietly inside.  

"You are smart," he whispered as he got in the bed beside him.  "A nap sounds perfect."

===

Bruce huffed with a disgruntled noise. “Smartass,” he mumbled. He didn’t open his eyes as he hugged his arms to himself and curled against Clark’s chest. He still had Clark’s robe on, too.

"Alarm. Seven," he added.

===

"Yeah, yeah," he replied, smiling.  He reached for the alarm clock with one hand while he lifted the other arm and put it behind Bruce’s back.  He found Bruce’s foot, which was warm from being under the blankets and rubbed his toes into the arch.

===

"Mph." Bruce pushed his foot between Clark’s legs so he couldn’t get at it. The other he bent away. He didn’t want to admit it, but that actually kind of tickled. Not in the laughing way, in the sensitive way. Luckily he was too far gone to talk anymore. He couldn’t remember if he kissed Clark’s skin before he fell asleep, but he was pretty sure he did, or his imagination was far better than what he realized.

===

There wasn’t really any way he could get closer to Bruce, but still he wouldn’t have minded if there had been even less space between them and if they had even longer to stay like this.  But he wasn’t greedy… he’d take what he could get and be happy.

It wasn’t long before he drifted to sleep.

&&&

He always woke up just ahead of the alarm clock, because he could always hear the little surge of electricity the clock needed to go off.  So his eyes came open at 6:59.

He gently moved his arm from around Bruce and ran both hands through his own messy hair.

The alarm went off.

===

Bruce growled at being woken up. He wasn’t entirely coherent as he flailed for the alarm clock. There was a bed, another person, and then  _oh right, Clark_.

His hand slapped down on snooze button. He tried saying “five more minutes” but nothing actually managed to verbalize itself. Bruce collapsed onto his back and then rolled to his side, burying as much on top of him as he could.

===

Clark rolled over behind Bruce and sighed.  He should let him sleep.  He should sleep more, too.  Though he was sure he’d be staring down the business end of a big bat-hissy fit if he let him sleep too late.  

But now that he thought about it, he’d probably be dealing with said fit for waking him up, too.  

"Hey," he muttered sleepily.  "Don’t you have important rich guy crime fighter stuff to do?"

===

Grumbling, Bruce picked his head up from under the pillows. It didn’t get much further than that.

For five minutes he laid in Clark’s bed, blinking at the world around him. The robe felt itchy against his skin as he thought back to what had happened not even two hours ago. He remembered Clark’s beautifully soft skin, the way their cocks slid against one another. The horrible obscenities the World’s Biggest Boy Scout had said. Bruce smiled and turned under the covers, facing Clark.

The room was dark now. The sun had set, the lights were out. Only the red flash of the alarm clock adorned them. Bruce pinned Clark on his back with his hands, slid one knee across his hip, settling their groins together again.

"Plane leaves at eight-forty-five," he muttered.

===

Clark licked his lips and smiled.  His skin tingled a little, in the best possible way, where Bruce touched him.  

"Is that a fact?" he asked softly, hands sliding up Bruce’s back.

===

"M-hm." Bruce couldn’t get his eyes off the intersection of Clark’s jaw and neck, right where the hinge was painted in luminescent red. He leaned forward and licked it, dragged his lips together and sucked as he pulled up. There was a small  _pop_  when he pulled away.

"There wouldn’t happen to be anything I needed to know about kryptonian physiology, would there?" he asked. He went back to placing soft, suckling kisses along Clark’s neck.

===

Clark ran his fingers through Bruce’s hair and sighed in delight at the feel of Bruce’s beautiful, perfect, talented mouth on his skin.  This feeling was better than anything.

"The only thing you should know," Clark began, sinking his head back into the pillow beneath him, "is that doing that will definitely get you laid."

===

"Was there any doubt?" He loved it like this, loved Clark beneath him and the blankets covering them both, loved the gooseflesh that shuddered on his skin when Clark played with his hair.

Bruce didn’t stay on Clark’s neck for long. He wandered downward, hands splaying across Clark’s sides, kisses finding every groove to lay themselves in between. He traced every bump of muscle, he followed every line of tendon. His fingers gripped at Clark’s ass as he went further down. Bruce pointed ignored Clark’s cock, going instead for his hip, sucking on the small protrusion of bone.

Slowly, he followed the Adonis line down, followed it all the way to the base of Clark’s cock. Bruce nuzzled his nose into the crook of flesh, washing his tongue over one side of Clark’s scrotum. He was going to enjoy this.

===

There was nothing about this moment that wasn’t perfect.  He wanted to say as much, say so many warm and affectionate things that had the potential of embarrassing Bruce… but he was feeling kind of nonverbal right now.  

He spread his legs a little and sort of loosely wrapped them around Bruce, running the fingers on both hands delicately through his hair and over his scalp.

"I love your mouth," he couldn’t help sighing.

===

Bruce hummed as he suckled. He switched to the other side, giving ti the same lapping treatment, taking his time to massage every valley between every wrinkle. Then he dragged his tongue up the length of Clark’s shaft, going slower and slower, pulling away more and more with every centimeter until there was nothing left to do but flicker the tip of his tongue off the tip off Clark’s cock. 

"Lube," Bruce said.

===

"Oh, God," he moaned softly.  "Oh,  _God_ … yes… fuck.   _Fuck_  yes.”  He grabbed a little harder at Bruce’s hair with one hand and stroked the side of his face with one thumb as his hips began to thrust forward, just a little.  Just enough for a little more friction.  It felt good.  It was  _so_  good.

He reached for his nightstand, groped around blindly for the drawer, and finally found the bottle he needed.

===

The robe needed to go. Bruce sat up and shirked it off, throwing it onto the floor. It was too itchy to leave under the blankets.

He came back up to eye level with Clark, kissing him on the lips and rocking their hips together to bring himself to mast. His hands closed on the lube bottle, twining his fingers between Clark’s around it.

"Do you want me to use a condom?" he asked.

===

That wasn’t how he had imagined this would be, but yet, “You don’t have to.  It’s not like anything could happen.”

Because now that the option was on the table, as it were, he was  _embarrassingly_  eager for it.  He was so willing right about now… so turned on by Bruce that he’d have said yes to just about anything.  

He wanted it  _so_  bad.

===

With one final peck on the cheek Bruce slipped back down with the covers on his shoulders, feeling his own cock twitch as his mind went ahead. His tongue returned to caressing Clark’s shaft, his lips sucked and wet everything inch they could wrap themselves against. He used one hand to guide Clark’s thighs apart, and another massaged behind Clark’s balls.

He paused to slick two fingers with lube. Then he squirted a dollop on Clark’s opening, slowly sinking his mouth over Clark’s cock as he traced the rim.

Bruce pushed one finger inside to start. His mouth popped back off Clark’s cock, and his eyes flicked up to watch his face.

"Tell me what you want," he breathed, drawing nonsensical polygons around Clark’s stiff prostate. He pushed down on it, testing the limits he was working under.

===

His hips jerked upwards and his fingers curled around Bruce’s shoulders, but he was careful not to press to hard.

"Ahhh fuck, god, Jesus fuck," he said loving the feeling of being stretched open, his cock twitching in anticipation.  "Moooore," he keened.  "I want more… and I need… kiss me."

===

Bruce added extra lube to his second finger before pushing that inside, too. He began twirling them in circles inside.  _Too coherent_. But he would give the man his kiss.

Taking in the tip of Clark’s cock, tasting the salty precome leaking from it, Bruce started sucking his way down the shaft. Every time he swallowed he went a bit farther, took Clark in a bit deeper. Bruce had long since learned control of his gag reflex as part just learning his own body, and right before he went too far, he sucked in a deep breath through his nose and plunged all the way to the base.

===

Clark bit his lip as his back arched.  He didn’t know whether he wanted to thrust into Bruce’s mouth or push down onto his fingers or try to manage both.

"Bruce, aahhhh, God," he moaned.  "Sooo fucking  _good_.”  His mouth was no longer connected to his brain, and neither was his body.  Bruce was literally sucking all the sense out of him.  And he didn’t care a bit.

He kept biting his lip, trying to hold back because he wanted this to last… wouldn’t mind staying on the edge forever, as long as he was with Bruce.  But no.  It was too good.  

"God I’m gonna come… I’mgonnafuckingcome," he moaned, instinctively letting go of Bruce’s hair as he felt himself release, coming as if it had been weeks instead of hours.

===

It was instinct that kept him from gagging. When Clark finished shooting Bruce pulled his head back and swallowed everything down just so he could breathe faster.

"Damn," he rasped, swallowing again to get spit in his throat. "There goes that plan." He watched Clark’s chest rise and fall with a faint smile on his face.

===

Clark was still breathing hard, chest heaving slightly as he draped his arm across his forehead.  ”I lied,” he breathed.  ”The other thing you should know… it takes almost no time for me to recover.”  He lifted his head enough to look Bruce in the eye and give him a lazy smile.  ”So if you still want to…”


	11. Chapter 11

"You’re joking." Bruce looked from Clark’s cock to his face.  _Multiple orgasms, holy shit_. “Tell me you’re joking.”

===

Clark sat up on his elbows and wrinkled his nose.  He’d thought Bruce would be happy to hear that.  He realized there was a chance that Bruce might find it… weird or gross or something.

"Well… we don’t have to," he said softly.  "But the option is there…"

===

Bruce stared at him deadpan. “Turn over,” he said, moving himself so Clark could do just that. He pooled some lube in his palm and wiped it over his member.

===

Clark arched a brow.  ”What a romantic.”  But still he turned over.

===

He didn’t want to answer that. He didn’t want to get distracted from his new objective.

"Clark." Bruce laid himself over the man, slipped his dick in between two perfect, perfect ass cheeks. "I want you to understand something," he continued. He started grinding, felt his heart beating wildly out if control. Bruce kissed at his neck, paused his hips to keep himself under control. This was serious now. This was something he needed to be able to do.

===

Clark closed his eyes tight and let his mouth fall open.  ”Oooh,” he sighed, feeling Bruce sliding into him.  

"Fmuh," he mumbled, his face buried in the pillow.  He hoped Bruce could translate that to "What?"

===

"You’re so beautiful." Bruce thrust once. He buried his face into Clark’s skin. "So  _tight_.” He thrust again, harder this time. “God, I’m gonna fuck you. I’m gonna fuck you so hard Clark,  _fuuck_.”

Bruce bit his tongue to distract himself. He reared back all the way to his tip and hovered at Clark’s entrance, panting.

"And then." He kissed the back of Clark’s neck, tender and sweet. "And then you’re gonna fuck _me_.” With one swift motion Bruce plunged himself balls-deep. He held Clark’s hips in his hands and he pistoned in and out, teeth digging in as he found that one place where he could ignore his looming orgasm and make this last.

"I want you to come a hundred times. I want you to fuck me senseless, I want you to fuck my brains out on the floor. I wanna feel you leaking out of me all — day — long, do you understand?"

===

Clark had never been so willing in his life to surrender control of his body to another person.  He didn’t even know he could feel like this… he experienced so many things differently from other people because he  _was_  different.  But this felt perfect right now, God  _so_  perfect, and Bruce  _liked_ the things that made him different.  He wasn’t scared or shying away… he was embracing it, and Clark just… he never wanted to stop feeling the way he was feeling right then.

And everything Bruce was saying, all those beautiful, well-timed words, made it feel even better… and it already felt pretty damn good.

"Ooh, God, yesss, Bruuuce," he moaned.  "Fuck, ‘s all I want.  Just… don’t stop… so good." 

===

"Come for me," Bruce spoke into his ear. "I want to feel you clench when I come."

===

Clark lifted his hips a little higher, which made him push back on Bruce’s cock.  He pushed back to meet each thrust as he reached for his own cock which had been throbbing to be touched… the friction of his body moving against the sheet below him wasn’t enough.

He fisted himself quickly, but it didn’t take long for him to coax a few guttural sounds from his throat as he came on his hand and the sheet.

===

Bruce gasped and groaned as Clark clenched. “Fuck yes Clark, fuck!” he said. His legs writhed, his mouth opened and closed. Then his own climax was upon him, ripping up his spine and shuddering his hips.

Bruce collapsed as the last of it left him. He would have whimpered if his brain didn’t kick back online as quickly as it usually did. He pulled himself out and rolled into his back, eyes closed and trying to figure out what had just happened.

===

Clark sighed as he felt Bruce pull out and turned over onto his side, facing him.  ”That was… really good,” he breathed, smiling.  ”Though if I had known what you had planned for me I’d have waited on that shower.”

===

Bruce lolled his head towards Clark. He smirked. “You don’t even know half of what I have planned for you.” Then, glancing at the clock, he rolled out of bed and picked up the robe. He was getting first shower again.

===

"Jerk," he called after Bruce as he left, but he couldn’t help the smile on his face that had also snuck into his voice.  He was very much looking forward to finding out  _everything_  Bruce had planned for him… and he hoped a good portion of it played out like this evening had.

===

He had to piss the moment he stepped onto the bathroom tiles. Bruce hung the robe and went straight for the shower, not trusting his aim one bit. He wasn’t disappointed. As the hot water drained over his body, Bruce thought everything would be good.

He had to check in with Gordon on Killer Croc, find out where they were going to keep him. Blackgate seemed out of the question, but Arkham wasn’t meant for monsters. He would also need to find a way to do rechargeable gauntlets and see if he could expedite the Croc bloodwork. There was a party at some point, he needed to ask Alfred because he was pretty sure he had blacked out while being told about it the first time, and then Clark. He needed to clear a day to spend with Clark again. And he needed to do something about Lois.

Bruce turned off the water and dried himself off. He had brought his clothes in with him and he changed back into them, leaving the robe on its hook. Bruce considered the cheap material. He’d buy Clark a fancier robe, too.

An idea struck him. Bruce smiled as he walked out into the kitchen, going for the coffee maker.

===

Clark couldn’t quite will himself to get out of bed as he waited for Bruce to get out of the shower.  He reached over and turned the lamp on and began to think about what he really ought to get accomplished before he went to bed.  For starters — dinner.  He’d worked through lunch, and pizza still sounded pretty good.  He and Lois still needed to work on their piece about the ADA, but he’d promised to type up their interview notes.  And then there was the fiction piece he had been promising himself he’d have done some time ago.  

And he really should try to make some peace with Lois before he saw her in the morning.

He snuggled lower under the blankets, rolling into the still wet spot by accident.  He added laundry to the list of things he needed to do.  With any luck, he wouldn’t have to be out of the apartment much.  Maybe the city would give him a quiet night.

When he saw Bruce come out of the bathroom, he grabbed his hastily discarded jeans and made his way over to the shower.  Once under the spray, he blushed at the memory of coming three times and using more profanity than he had in the last month put together… and he felt a bit of satisfaction at the fact that as hard as Bruce had fucked him, if he were anyone else, he’d not be able to sit down comfortably.

He didn’t stay in the shower long because Bruce  _had_  used most of the hot water.  He dried off quickly and pulled his jeans back on.  ”Next time you’re sharing that shower so I don’t end up freezing my cobbers off again,” he called as he walked through his bedroom and back toward the kitchen.

===

"You don’t  _have_  a big enough shower to share,” Bruce retorted. The coffee had just started draining. He stared at the magnets on the fridge while he waited. “And you have a summer home next to Santa Clause.”

===

"I’ll have you know that my  _summer home_  is quite comfortably heated,” he said with a smile.  ”Pretty big shower there, by the way.” 

===

"Hmph. We can go there next time." Bruce nodded to a ten he left sitting on the counter. "Ordered a pizza for you, by the way. You had their magnet. I assumed  _meat lovers_.”

===

Clark raised an eyebrow.  ”I’m going to be calling you a jerk a lot, aren’t I?”  And then, coming a step closer, he asked, “And what, did I like call out pizza when I came?  How’d you know I was having a craving?”

===

Bruce smirked, then shrugged. “Cheese contains caseins, pepperoni produces serotonin, cooked bread signals the subconscious that its safe to eat. It was that or the Chinese place.”

===

"Ooh, science," Clark said with a smile.  "Good."  He ruffled his damp hair a bit and yawned.  "Too bad you have to go back to the real world."

===

"For now." His eyes didn’t leave Clark’s hair. It was completely absent-minded, he probably did it ten times a day, and yet Bruce watched and felt…uplifted.

He held out his hand.

===

"Just as well," Clark replied, moving closer to lace his fingers through Bruce’s.  "I have stuff to take care of… work…  _laundry_.”  He gave him a pointed look at that last point.

And with a sigh he added, “And I should also see if I can handle Lois.  She’s a bit annoyed with me.” 

===

Bruce scoffed at the laundry look. “Just apologize. She just wants to think she’s right.”

===

He snorted a laugh at that.  ”Sure, I’ll apologize, but that won’t make it go away.  I’m going to be hearing about this for… I can’t even begin to imagine how long.  I literally sat there and tried to blend into the wall and I’m the bad guy.”

===

"Clark." Bruce leveled an deadpan look at him. "I’ve seen you  _finger waggle_  at purse snatchers in Central Park. You stopped a gang of teenagers from beating up a kid walking home for the night—”  _I’m different, too_ , Clark had said to him “—and you visited a cabbie just because he got into a car accident.”

The coffee dinged behind him. Bruce let go of Clark’s hand to pour most of it in a commandeered thermostat. “If anyone’s a bad guy, it’s me.”

===

Clark felt himself smiling softly.  ”Well, great… I’m not the bad guy but I am sleeping with him, because  _that’s_  so much better.”  Then he laughed once and tilted his head once and added, “Though as far as Lois knows I merely have an awkward crush on him.”

===

"Awkward doesn’t even begin to describe it. You do remember the Martha Wayne event, don’t you?" Bruce sipped at the coffee.

===

Clark smiled.  ”I may have been embarrassing but I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”  Then, as he poured himself the rest of the coffee — enough to fill his Big Apricot mug about halfway — he added, “And remind me, which one of us ran from the table in the middle of the meal?  You’re not always as smooth as you like to think.”

===

He snorted. Clark actually had him there. Bruce tried to think of a comeback, but nothing turned up. He just scowled and pulled out his wallet, muttering, “I got what I wanted, too.”

He left a ten dollar bill on the counter. “Need to get going. There’s tip for the pizza. Just sign my name for me.”

===

"You pull out anymore money out and I’m gonna start to feel cheap," he said with a raised eyebrow.  "But hey, before you go —" and he came closer to Bruce, touching his arm gently. 

===

Bruce snapped his attention towards Clark. Electricity shot through his arm. “Yes?”

===

His eyes were round and bright as he bit his bottom lip and asked, “Were you going to leave without kissing me goodbye?”

===

Slumping slightly, Bruce said, “For that, I should.” He wasn’t a romantic, not by a long shot, but his gaze softened in the presence of those eyes. Clark compared Bruce’s eyes to the sky around an aurora borealis. Bruce had no comparison for the blues of Clark’s.

He leaned forward and kissed Clark softly. Anything more and he would be too afraid to go. “I’ll call you,” he whispered. For once in his life, he meant it.

===

"You better," he said with a little smile.

===

Bruce returned the look. “Communicator’s on the table.” He left with only the click of the door to mark his exit.

&&&

Down in the lobby, Bruce stopped and pulled out his phone.  _And for the record, you are cheap_ , he sent to Clark. They hadn’t formally changed numbers, but he figured Clark would know who had sent it.

===

Clark was situating his communicator in his ear when his phone buzzed to notify him of a text message.  Though the number came up as unknown, he had no doubt who had sent it.  He laughed once to himself at the message and returned,  _Since I had no prior knowledge of that pizza, I think it was technically free_.

===

Bruce read the message and rolled his eyes. He casually hailed a cab. “Airport. Terminal 2.” The driver nodded in compliance.

Bruce watched the lights go by. Superman, the Man of Steel, Last Son of Krypton and World’s Finest Boy Scout, was the cheapest date he had ever slept with. But Clark Kent was worth so much more than all the others combined.

They were going to do this, he decided. He hadn’t even known he was unsure until now. From this moment on, it was going to work.

===

When Clark had fantasized about being with Bruce, he could easily imagine the sex (which in his mind, was phenomenal), but it was hard to figure out how the rest of it would work.  He had been right about the sex, but that wasn’t going to be all.  They were going to be in a relationship and be exclusive and occasionally romantic.  But mostly they would joke with one another, and Clark would make Bruce smile and he’d deny it and Bruce would say terrible things and Clark would pretend to be shocked.  And it would work… he didn’t have to worry.  It would work.

And a little while later, when the pizza came, Clark found it difficult to keep a straight face.

_Meat lover’s._

He’d have to get him back for that.


End file.
